And then the Bookworm Fell in Love with the Ferret
by Wolfsong12
Summary: Headmistress McGonagall is determined to put the House rivalries behind Hogwarts. Hermione craves a challenge, a riddle. Draco longs for a solution to his mother's curse. Fate (or, perhaps, Dumbledore) works in its mysterious ways yet again to unite the two enemies... In more ways than one. /Dramione FanFic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! It's Wolf speaking, I'd just like to say a few things before I start the story...**

**Undo, undo, UNDDOOOOO. Ew. Ugh. **

**Pardon the momentary freakout and the 'backspace' abuse. I wrote this story when I was 13, and have returned 2 years later to finished it. And correct it. And remove the ever annoying little A/Ns that I wrote. And DEMOLISH THE CLICHE METAPHORS. I'm too lazy to rewrite the entire thing, so bare with me. There will be some remaining cliches and stupid grammar errors, more than likely. **

**And I'll be fixing like, one chapter at a time. So half the time, you'll see the starry-eyed, giggly, I-edit-my-pics-on-picnik 13 year old me in the A/Ns. (By the time I'm done editing everything, I'll come back and delete this paragraph. Probably. If I remember.) But trust me, you'll _know _when you see that side of me. Ugh. ****I stopped writing for 2 years at Chapter 8, so the A/N of chapter 9 is gonna be some weird inception thing. It'll be like, "woah, it's been like, 2 years since I've been here... Hey guise? Hate me yet? Lemme go edit the old stuff BRB!" So be mentally prepared for that... I guess... (?)**

**Yupyupyup (Land Before Time, anyone? Ducky's voice actor was murdered when she was like, 10. Fun Fact!) So, you know the whole return-to-school, Draco-is-Head-Boy-and-Hermione-is-Head-Girl ordeal. That's where we'll be starting. Reviews appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the characters of my invention because the authors on FanFiction today don't seem to realize that their characters aren't legally copyrighted, and to be honest, this whole disclaimer is insanely pointless and I don't even know why I included it when I was 13, because when I agreed to the terms and conditions, I pretty much said that I own nothing. /oddrantthing**

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><p><em>So, why don't you meet me, down behind the old school?<br>We'll waste away the weekend with perfect regard for how  
>Cavalier we used to be, that beautiful insanity,<br>The apathy's surrounding me,  
>Don't close your eyes or we''ll fade away...<br>~Old School by Hedley_

The sun beat down gently on the girl's head when she stepped out of the car, the heat making her soft brown curls instantly frizz. She left her air-conditioned refuge hesitantly and delicately, placing her old worn sneakers uncertainly on the sizzling pavement. Clearing her throat uncertainly, she shaded her caramel eyes with her slim hand, observing her surroundings with the bittersweet taste of nostalgia in the back of her throat.

"Here you are, Miss Granger," Hestia Jones said as she slammed the car door behind her. "King's Cross train station."

"Thank you, Hestia," Hermione Granger said as she smiled fondly at the tiny woman.

Hestia had been Hermione's -for lack of a better term- bodyguard since the battle at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had insisted upon the trio each having one, pointing out that there were still many Death Eaters the ministry had yet to capture who would stop at nothing to avenge their lord's death. Though the two manly Gryffindors protested loudly, they knew she was right. Hermione didn't mind at all; in fact, she had enjoyed her time with the older woman, whom often shared very moralistic life stories with Hermione about times when she was a younger witch. They had spent many hours sipping hot chocolate and discussing their favorite muggle books. Hermione sensed that her summer would have been very lonely without her.

Being Hermione Granger, she only did everything to the best of her abilities. And that meant _everything... _Including the oblivation on her parents. Needless to say, no attempts at memory restoration worked, leaving Hermione homeless after the battle. Of course, Mrs. Weasley had offered Hermione refuge, but money at their place was very tight and Hermione didn't want to take advantage of them- despite Mrs. Weasley's constant reassurance that she wasn't. Besides, the Weasley residency was already full, and Hermione hated being cramped. So instead, Professor McGonagall took it upon herself to find Hermione a place to stay within one of the Order's old safehouses. She was currently residing in Muggle London, in a small town that was conveniently two hours away from the train station.

"Hermione!" shouted a familiar voice. Hermione had no trouble picking out the carrot-colored head in the crowd, though at the moment, his smile seemed brighter than his hair.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around the scrawny Weasley child.

She pulled back and surveyed him, from his flaming hair to his lopsided grin to his gangly appearance. For a minute, the two just looked at each other, a blush slowly creeping into the redhead's face. The situation quickly became awkward and Hermione looked away.

"'Mione!" called a new voice, saving Hermione from further awkwardness and embarrassment. Hermione looked up to see the younger Weasley sister, her legendary boyfriend in tow. Hermione grinned. "Ginny! Harry!" The two embraced her.

"I've missed you guys so much," Hermione gushed- she was surprised to find that she hadn't even realized how much she really did miss the three until now.

"We've missed you too!" Ginny replied. "I have so much to tell you!" Her eyes traveled to Harry and she winked at Hermione discreetly. Harry had spent the summer at the burrow and Hermione knew that Ginny was just itching to fill her in on the fluffy details of their time together. While Ginny fell back into Harry's arms, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. She wondered impatiently if she and Ron would ever get passed their awkward stage. She shook her head, forcing the thought back. _Don't be ridiculous. All relationships take time. _She told herself.

"Ronald and Ginevra Weasley!" Someone huffed sternly, whom Hermione instantly recognized as Mrs. Weasley, "You know better than to run off from me like that!" As Ron and Ginny looked to the ground, shuffling their feet and mumbling apologies, Mrs. Weasley turned to Hermione and smiled fondly. "Hermione, dear! How nice to see you!" She reached forward and wrapped the younger witch into a motherly embrace. There it was again- that nostalgia. Hermione tried to ignore the small pang in her heart and blinked away the threatening tears.

"I've missed you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as she forced herself to smile at the woman.

"Now, we better get you three on the train," Mrs. Weasley continued, bustling the three along.

As the Weasley's and Harry went back to retrieve their carts, Hermione turned around to discover that Hestia had unloaded Hermione's during the small reunion. "Thank you, Hestia," Hermione said, a smile etched across her beautiful features. Hestia returned the smile and reached to hug Hermione, who was nearly an inch taller.

"It's been nice knowing you, Hermione Granger," she said quietly.

"Will I ever see you again?" Hermione asked as they pulled apart.

"Maybe," Hestia said wistfully. She flashed Hermione another smile. "We still need to discuss Edgar Allen Poe's work."

Hermione grinned at that. "Definitely."

"Hermione!" Harry called. "Come on!"

"Coming!" Hermione called back. She turned back to Hestia. "Thanks for everything. You've been a great friend."

"Always a pleasure," Hestia said. "Now go with your friends. And have a great year."

Hermione tried not cry. Through the months, Hestia had been like a mother to Hermione, filling the empty void that her heart had made when she obliviated her parents. She knew it would be a very long time until she'd see Hestia again, if she ever saw her at all, and knowing this made Hermione feel as if she was losing her parents all over again. She pursed her lips and nodded at Hestia, finding herself unable to speak, and took the cart. She ran off to join her friends at the train. _Don't look back, _Hermione's mind willed._  
><em>

Hermione remembered thinking the same thing when she had obliviated her parents.

It was a new year for Hermione Ganger. She had no parents, no home, and not much money. But the Dark Lord was dead, her best friends were alive, and she was returning to the school she so loved. Things had changed, but she was going to make the best of it. That, she promised herself.

But she had no idea how hard that promise would be to keep.

* * *

><p>Alone.<p>

Utterly alone.

That's exactly what Draco Malfoy felt as he strutted through Platform 9 3/4, his head lifted high and his stone cold eyes emotionless. He wouldn't let anyone onto that, however, because according to his father, a Malfoy's weakness was in his emotion.

Not that he ever listened to his father anymore. No, he despised the man with everything he had. But that didn't mean his lessons didn't used to be important to Draco. When he was little, Lucius Malfoy was his teacher. His idol. He was everything a Malfoy aught to be, everything Draco _wanted _to be. Draco had grown up in his father's footsteps, taking his words to heart. Merlin, he didn't even _mind _how cruel his father spoke to him back then. He embraced it.

Yes, Draco used to love his father. But there comes a time in every child's life when he realizes that his parents aren't perfect, perhaps when they learn that the Easter Bunny isn't real or Santa Claus doesn't exist. It came to Draco when his father first hit him.

It was after Voldemort had risen. At first, his father was glad to hear this news. He was even overjoyed. Draco was quite happy to see his father show an emotion other than hatred or sarcasm, so you can understand his disappointment when Narcissa asked if joining the Dark Lord was such a good idea. Lucius, enraged, asked why ever _wouldn't_ it be a good idea? Narcissa argued that she didn't want to see her son grow up in such a dangerous environment.

That was when Lucius's abuse broke the barrier from verbal to physical.

Draco, horrified that Lucius had hit his mother, tried to intervene. Blinded by his rage, Lucius crucio'd his son. And as Draco's agonizing screams echoed through the halls, Lucius _laughed. _Laughed at his own son's pain.

Things had changed in the Malfoy home from then on. No longer did Narcissa questioned her husband's actions -though Draco could easily tell that she didn't approve-, and no longer did Draco disobey his father. But Lucius always found a reason to send a crucio or two in their direction, no matter how perfect Draco tried to make himself. No matter how much like his father he tried to become.

"Mr. Malfoy?" squeaked a tiny, uncertain voice. Draco felt someone tug on his shirt. "Twitzy wants to know if Mr. Malfoy is alright?"

Draco shook himself from the memory. "I'm fine," he snapped, slapping the house elf's hand away. "Great, you soiled my clothes, you good-for-nothing oversized rat! Hurry up and get the cart, the train is leaving soon."

"Twitzy is sorry, Mr. Malfoy!" the house elf amended. "Twitzy did not mean to offend Mr. Malfoy..."

"Don't call me that," Draco growled. Being called by his father's name made Draco feel more and more like the Malfoy sire. "And I thought I told you to get the cart!"

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy," the house elf said, scurrying towards the cart.

"I told you not to call me that!" Draco shouted as the house elf returned. He pushed his way through the crowd and onto the train, excessively shoving those who wouldn't move.

Instead of going to his normal compartment, where Blaise Zabini, Theodore Knott, and the ever-annoying Pansy Parkinson would be waiting (Goyle wouldn't be returning this year; he was too shaken up by Crabbe's death, and quite frankly Draco thought he would've been too stupid to make it through the year anyway. It was a miracle that he had gotten through the others), Draco was forced to head to the Head Compartment, due to his new responsibilities as Head Boy.

He was somewhat surprised when Professor (or, should he say, Headmistress) McGonagall had granted him the privilege, seeing that his family were, after all, Death Eaters. Though quite frankly, he couldn't care less for her reasons. Torturing first years would be undoubtedly easy with this new position of power. He just hoped the Head Girl wasn't too bothersome; they would be sharing their own private common room. But no matter how annoying she turned out to be, if she wasn't a pureblood or a Slytherin, he was going to make this year hell for her.

As he slid open the compartment door, he found that karma seemed to have been holding something against him. Because, sitting before him with her usual frizzy hair piled upon her oversized head, absorbed into a bloody _muggle _book, was the very last person he wanted to spend his year with.

"Malfoy?"

"Granger?"

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><p><strong>AN: ZOMG NEVER WOULDA SEEN IT COMING.**

**Jayyykayy. Lawl. **

**Seriously hoping that nobody was scared off by my interesting A/N at the beginning. Ah, well. Hoped you liked it! ..****Erm, the story. Not the A/N. But, you know, that too. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Summing up what Little me Maid when writing the author's note- the romance is slow building. That's just how I tend to do things: as realistic as possible. Little me always was also all like, "I hope that's okay with you? *Puppy eyes*" but really, Little Me had plans for the whole story and was gonna build slowly anyway, ignoring all reviews that went, "WTF ITS ALREADY CHAPTER TWO AND THEYRE NOT MAKING OUT YET THIS DRAMIONE IS SO BORING!" Sorry, you guys. That's just not my thing.**

**Also, I portray Draco a lot differently than J.K Rowling probably would have. In his memories, he is still somewhat vulnerable. Innocent, even. Think evil guy with a tragically cliche backstory of when he was tainted with evilness. I'm still working on making that true for our version of Draco here -minus the cliche part-, so let's just see how that works out.  
><strong>

**Most of this chapter is just looking into Draco's past. It might get a little confusing (there are times when he has memories within memories; more inception for you!), but stick with me here.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. Anything you _don't _recognize, I don't own. I've been through this rant already, but I'm pretty much legally bound to the FanFic sign up page that says I don't own anything unless it's copyrighted, and I can't mention some of these famous dudes whose names I've already forgotten. So I'm pretty much wasting my breath! :D**

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><p><em>Don't wanna hear your sad songs, <em>  
><em>I don't wanna feel your pain, <em>  
><em>When you swear it's all my fault, <em>  
><em>'Cause you know we're not the same.<br>~Ignorance by Paramore_

For a minute, the two just stared at each other, both obviously shocked to find the other here. Hell, shocked to see each other in general. Neither had encountered one another since the war, when Draco made it clear that he was on the Dark Side, officially marking them as more than just school rivals. Neither of them had assumed that Draco would be invited back to Hogwarts, let alone made the Head Boy. And neither were pleased with the idea of spending time together.

To Hermione, Draco was nothing more than a coward who only took the side that could protect him best in the war. To Draco, Hermione was his worst enemy's best friend; she was the one person whose grades were better than his, and she was the very last person who deserved it. She was a bloody mudblood, what more had to be said?

Draco was the first to recover. "Shut your bloody trap, Granger. You look like an idiot."

Granger's mouth clamped shut instantly, and a small blush colored her cheeks_. _"What are _you _doing here, Ferret?" She sputtered, in an attempt to maintain her pride.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Draco asked as he stretched out on the compartment seat- as far away from the filthy witch as he could get. "Honestly, Granger, you're supposed to be the brightest witch of your time. Where's your common sense?" he sneered.

"_You're _the Head Boy?" Granger said, her muddy colored eyes bulging rather unattractively.

"Took you long enough," Draco muttered as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like some sleep. Try to keep that oversized mouth of yours under control, or I won't hesitate __Muffliato__ you."

"That's against the rules," Granger pointed out angrily. Draco lazily watched her through slits of his eyelids. She was fuming, her jaw working angrily, running her hand through her hair -which was beginning to frizz- and he smirked. It never took much to work the buck-toothed witch up.

"What're _you _laughing at, Malfoy?" Granger growled, glaring at him.

"You," Draco said simply.

"Don't be an arse," Granger snapped.

"Don't ask next time," Draco said, a bemused expression on his face. "At least I don't have the face of an arse."

"That's a matter of opinion," Granger mumbled.

"Honestly," Draco replied, "I think my opinion is more highly favored than yours. I am, after all, the Malfoy heir." Although it took Draco everything he had not to grimace when he called himself that, her response was worth it.

"Why you... You ferret!" Granger exploded. "You bloody spoiled brat! Why did you even return this year anyway? I imagine it took a lot of effort to lift your mighty arse off your throne and come down to mingle with such _lowly _mudbloods like me!"

Draco smirked. "It did."

Granger stuttered for a moment, then, at lost for worst, slammed her book shut and soon after the compartment door as well. Draco rolled his eyes behind his eyelids, then readjusted his position into a more comfortable one.

This year definitely wasn't going to be as much of an escape as he thought it would be. Not with Granger around. But it was either Lucius or Granger, and it didn't take an idiot to figure which would be less of a hell to Draco. He allowed a small sigh to escape his lips.

_Just one more year, _Draco reminded himself quietly. _Just one more year, and I'll be eighteen. I'll be old enough to escape this hell hole once and for all. _Merlin, he couldn't wait for the day. He could almost reach it, could almost taste the freedom on his blistered tongue... _I'll escape with my dad's fortunes and disappear. Start a new life somewhere else. Become a new person._

Those where his plans; something he had longed for since the Dark Lord returned... And even once tried to go through with. And before he could stop himself, the vivid memory flashed before him, replaying itself in his head like a horror film that was stuck on repeat.

* * *

><p><em>Wand... Check.<em>

_Spell book... Check._

_Sack of coins... Check._

_Extra clothes... Check._

_This is it, Draco thought. He closed his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. He was, undoubtedly, scared. No, terrified. He paced the room, his pale face even paler than usual, each step shakier than the last. Chill bumps teased his arms, though he wasn't cold. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, so much so that he was afraid his father might hear it and come to check on the young Malfoy heir._

_Finally, Draco heard the sounds of an old enchanted clock ringing through the house._

_Midnight._

_Draco stopped pacing instantly, gathering his things and muttering a quick _muffliato _charm to make sure his footsteps wouldn't be heard as his expensive shoes hit the fine wood floor. He opened his bedroom door, stealing a quick glance down the hall before checking his watch. For exactly five minutes, the protection and alarm spells would be disabled. Exactly five minutes to escape._

_Draco had thought about taking a simple route and waiting until the school year started. But the Dark Lord's forces were growing stronger in the Malfoy home, and Draco knew that if he ever wanted to escape with his life (or at least without a Dark Mark), he had to leave now. It would have been so much easier for Draco to disapparate, but like Hogwarts, various spells had been casted to prevent that from happening. Not even the outside help that Draco was getting could undo this, though Draco had often pondered why, seeing this was the greatest wizard of all times that was helping him..._

_Draco slipped into the hallway quietly, his senses on high alert. He jumped at the simplest of noises, like the small pitter-patter of the beginning storm and the increasing thunder that soon followed. Draco continued his journey down the elegant staircase, passing dozens of old family portraits that were sleeping quietly. Draco watched each one carefully as he passed, ensuring not one would awaken without his knowledge._

_Draco paused as he passed his mother's room, staring at the closed door. His fingers twitched and he wanted so badly to open it and check on her, he wanted to ask her to join him, and he wanted it so badly that tears began to pick his eyes._

_He knew if this was his mother escaping, she would have included Draco in her plans. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that she would only leave with Draco at her side. And for that, he felt horrendously, intensely guilty. Draco brushed away the feelings (and his tears). He stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, and -although it was hard- continued to walk. If his outside helper said there was nothing they could do for her, than there was nothing he could do._

_Draco knew it was selfish of him. It was very _Lucius _of him, in fact. But as the saying goes, like father like son. Though the words rang bitter in the young Malfoy's ears, he knew it was true; it's who he would always be. Lucius's cold blood ran through Draco's veins, and there was nothing he could do about that. Above everything else, Draco hated this about himself the most._

_The blonde Slytherin checked his watch again. 12:03. He had to hurry now, time was almost up. He sped up, his silver eyes taking in everything warily. Any minute now, a Death Eater could catch him wondering the hallways. Or worse, Voldemort himself could find him._

_Draco knew this was just his imagination at work; he had memorized the schedule of the patrols and he knew Voldemort never left his chambers unless emergency Death Eater meetings were called._

_Having just turned 16, he was not branded with the Dark Mark yet, therefore he couldn't attend Death Eater meetings, and therefore had never seen the Dark Lord. Well, never mind. He had met the Dark Lord, when he had just turned 14. After the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Seem-To-Die defeated Voldemort in the Triwizard Tournament, the evil being took refuge at the Malfoy's home and called for an emergency Death Eater meeting. As he entered the place acting as if he owned it -which angered Draco, especially when his father seemed so pleased by that-, his snakelike eyes had instantly found Draco's, who was watching the meeting through a crack in the door. Voldemort made the boy step forward and introduce himself. He remembered the grotesque grin that had stretched the skin on Voldemort's face when he hissed, "yes, the Malfoy boy. You will become very useful in the near future."_

_Draco should have been pleased. That's what his father had thought him, anyway- "You are only a true man when you serve the Dark Lord." But when he met his mother's eyes, he saw what Narcissa saw- a future of pain, destruction, and warped feelings. Unfortunately, Lucius saw the shared look, and grew angry. And found yet another reason to punish his son in their evening "lessons"._

_Draco shook himself from the memory, urging himself to hurry. He slipped open the front door, stepping out into the now-raging storm. He scanned the property, searching for something... There! Lying in the distance was an old, worn out boot: a portkey. He just had to get to it before anyone spotted it, then he was home free. Literally._

_"Hey!" Draco heard a window slide open, and someone called out to him. "Little Malfoy! Whaddya doing out there?"  
><em>

_Shit. He was busted._

_Draco took off towards the boot, and the man shouted again, no doubt attracting the attention of the patrolling Death Eaters. Before long, Draco found himself dodging deadly curses as he sprinted across the mile-wide yard. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest and his vision was blurred by the rain, adrenaline coursed through his Malfoy blood, and he slipped constantly in the slicked grass, but he couldn't give up. He was so close!_

_One well-aimed spell hit the boy in the small of his back, a trademark location used often by none other than the Lucius Malfoy. Draco crumpled in the mud like the pathetic child he was, and the familiar affects of the_ Crucio _took its toll_._ His father strode calmly to his son, his face devoid, though Draco could see the whitened knuckles at his sides. Draco cringed away, knowing fully well that he was defenseless, and his father held the means to kill him._

_"Get up," he hissed. Draco did as he told, willing himself to meet the man's eyes, but he instantly wish he hadn't. Cold fury and blind rage distorted his features and it took all of Draco's willpower not to shrink back under his harsh stare._

_"Lucius!" Narcissa cried as she flung herself out the door, her long silky evening gown billowing out behind her. "Don't hurt him, Lucius!"_

_The man hissed and he pushed his wife away from him. "He's a blood traitor and a liability to our force. He deserves to die." He seemed to have forgotten that he was speaking about his only son's life, or perhaps he didn't care anymore. Draco shouldn't have felt as offended as he did. Narcissa's resolve broke, and her face was streaked with a mixture of tears and mud. Even after trying to escape without her, she was throwing her life at the feet of her husband to save her son's life._

_"Perhaps that isn't necessary," hissed a new voice. Dragging his eyes from his mother, Draco was surprised and frightened to see the Dark Lord looming above him, a cold expression on his maniacal face._

_"But, my Lord...," Lucius stuttered._

_"Oh come now, Lucius," Voldemort cooed, "This is your son; the Malfoy heir. You mustn't truly want to kill him!"_

_Lucius, dumbfounded by his Lord and assuming it was a trick, said, "I-I would do anything to serve you, my Lord. Even if it meant abandoning my family."_

_Voldemort's face spread into a nasty grin. "Don't push it, Malfoy. I dislike suck ups."  
><em>

_"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said quietly.  
><em>

_"Now," Voldemort continued, "There may be a way for the young Malfoy to redeem himself. If he wishes to be redeemed, that is." The Dark Lord regarded Draco with a look that said he really didn't have choice if he wanted to live._

_Draco looked to his mother, desperation and pain etched across her beautiful features. She looked so helpless lying there, her expensive gown now tattered and torn. The Death Eaters that had formed to watch the Dark Lord taunted her and kicked at her defenseless figure. Draco would have willingly died right then and there, but watching his mother suffer was too much for the boy to handle. He had to protect Narcissa, even if he didn't exactly know how. He would do anything for her. "Anything." he echoed aloud._

_"Give me your arm, boy," Voldemort barked. Narcissa, realizing what was going on, let out a strangled gasp. Her eyes widened with horror, and she reached her frail hand but let it fall and turned her face away from her husband, maintaining what pride she had by crying in secret. Her shoulders slumped in defeat._

_Draco held out his arm uncertainly. Voldemort's hand shot out and grasped Draco's it tightly, like a Venus fly trap would to a fly that had just entered its flower. His grip was strong, his long, bony fingers slightly bruising Draco's slender arm. He licked his lips, a grin stretched out upon his face, and withdrew his wand._

_"With this wand, I will mark you as one of us!" Voldemort shouted above the howling winds. The pain that shot up his arms was like that of a thousand crucios, unlike any he had experienced before. His vision spotted._

_As he grasped his arm, still throbbing, a vision of some sort flashed before Draco's closed eyelids. He saw his mother, her face graced with a crescent-moon smile that accented the crinkles in her ocean eyes, a smile that Draco hadn't seen in years. His mother was happy and truly, undoubtably beautiful. _

_The image was quickly ruined, however, by the voice that had entered his head. __"Obey me," it whispered, in a familiar snakelike tone, "And she will live. But refuse to do so..."_

_The next few images passed by quickly, but so vividly that Draco would never forget any detail of it. The first was his mother in the dungeons, her hair in such a mess that could rival Hermione Grangers and her face pale and skinny. The next was her in torture, blood dripping freely from her open wounds and pain so clearly written in her eyes, but nevertheless she held her head high. And finally, one of his mother, dead. She looked small and frail and not nearly as proud as she did when she was alive: she was weak and freakishly skinny. There were dark circles under her lifeless eyes and she a look of pain forever bore into her features, as if she would never escape torture, even in death._

_Draco hadn't realized that he had been screaming until the images faded. He looked up at the cruel man before him, blocking out the storm, the laughter of the Death Eaters, and even his mother's concerned looks. All he saw was the monster before him._

_"Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear to follow me and obey my every command without a single doubt in mind?"_

_"Yes," Draco spat the words bitterly, glaring at the Dark Lord with venomous hatred burning in his stony eyes. A little bit of mud dibbled down his forehead and made its way into his eyelashes. He was consciously aware of how pathetic he looked, bending to the Dark Lord's wishes whilst splattered in mud and shivering violently._

_"And you understand the consequences if you fail to do so?"_

_"Yes," Draco repeated, though this time his voice faltered slightly. He glanced at his mother, a lump forming in his throat._

_"Good," Voldemort drew out the word, a smile stretched across his face. "And I know just exactly how you can prove your loyalty..."_

* * *

><p>"Hey, sweetie?" the voice dragged Draco from his memories and back to reality. He opened one eye to find the speaker, obvious annoyance spread across his face.<p>

"Would you like something from the trolley, dear?" the woman continued, seemingly unfazed by Draco's annoyance.

"No," Draco snapped, too worn out to come up with something more bitter to say.

"Alrighty then!" She closed the compartment door and continued down the train, leaving Draco alone once again.

Yes, Draco decided. It was going to be a long year.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>That... That ferret! I _hate _him!"

A furious Hermione Granger stormed into the compartment, startling her friends.

"Erm... Something wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked rather stupidly.

_"Yes, _something's wrong!" Hermione seethed as she sat across from the bewildered boy and his girlfriend. "Draco Malfoy, -that spoiled brat- that's what's wrong!"

"What about the git?" Ron asked as he munched on a chocolate frog.

"He's been elected the Head Boy!" Hermione cried, allowing her head to fall into her arms on the table between the four.

Harry looked up sharply, Ron choked on his frog, Ginny jumped.

"No way!" Ginny said.

"That bloody arse..." Ron grumbled.

_"_That can't be true," Harry said.

"It is!" Hermione said. "I was reading my Emily Dickinson book and he waltzed into the Head Compartment like he owned the damned place!"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, both with eyes widened and mouths slightly parted in shock. Hermione Granger rarely ever cursed.

"Maybe he was just pulling a prank on you," Harry offered weakly. "To see what you would do?"

"That sounds like him," Ron butted in.

"Why would play such a stupid and utterly pointless joke?" Hermione asked.

"That's Malfoy," Ron said somewhat cheerfully, "Stupid and utterly pointless."

Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. "What am I going to do?" she said, her voice muffled. "I can't live with Malfoy for the entire school year!"

"Calm down, Hermione," Ginny said, slipping out of her seat and into the one beside Hermione. She glared at the two unhelpful males in the compartment. Harry spread his palms wide, bewildered as if to say, _I don't know how to handle this situation! _Ron didn't seem to notice, as he was polishing off his chocolate frog. Ginny shook her head. _Unbelievable. _

She patted her friend's back. "Besides, it's better sharing a common room with him than it is with a bunch of annoying first years."

"How is it _any_ better?" Hermione cried. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ginny, his expression reading: _And you say my attempts at comforting her sucked?__  
><em>

"Well, knowing Malfoy, he'd spend his time with his pureblood friends." Ginny said, choosing her words carefully. "He's to 'high and mighty' to converse with a muggleborn. You probably won't even remember he's living with you."

"Or he'd want to spend every waking moment making my life hell," Hermione grumbled.

"That sounds more like Malfoy," Ron agreed. Harry and Ginny both looked sharply at him. "What?" Ron said.

"You're not helping, Mate," Harry informed.

"I'm just sayin'...," Ron grumbled.

"Well, why don't you just avoid him and stick with us?" Ginny said. "There's no rule against being in your old common room. We'll give you the password, you can come hang out with us. It'll be just like old times!" Ginny smiled.

"Yeah," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I suppose that would be nice. And I could always use some extra time in the library..."

"That's the spirit!" Ginny said cheerfully.

Hermione smiled gratefully. at her redheaded friend. "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny smirked triumphantly at Harry. _I win._

* * *

><p><strong>Love? Hate? Leave me a review and tell me what you think!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Editing all my old stuff makes me feel productive. I _should _be writing a new chapter, to either one of my FanFics, but I chose the easy route and edited an old chapter again. Sigh. Little Me wanted to send a quick thanks**** "Super-Mega-Foxy-Awesome-Hot-and-totally-in-love-with-my-story" cousin, who is rereading this story as I retype it! How coincidental! **

**More Draco memories in this chapter. Character formation, you know. Fun shiz right dur. ****Sorry for the cursing. There's a reason this story is rated T... And, well, you know... It's Malfoy. It's kind of his thing. **

**Laadaa dee daa. I feel like my author's notes tell an interesting tale themselves. You should see how long my Percy Jackson FanFic author's notes are... I think the people who bother to read it already know more about me than half of my friends (despite what you may think, I'm not a _total _loser). On to the story! **

**Disclaimer: I own everything. HAHAHAHA I TOTALLY GOT YOU, of course I don't own anything! That's one original joke right there. **

* * *

><p><em>You don't know me<em>,  
><em>Don't ignore me<em>,  
><em>You don't want me there,<em>  
><em>You just shut me out.<em>  
><em>You don't know me<em>,  
><em>Don't ignore me<em>,  
><em>If you had your way, <em>  
><em>You'd just shut me up,<em>  
><em>Make me go away.<br>~Unwanted by Avril Lavigne_

After taking a few moments to recompose herself (and the wits she was sure she'd need), Hermione trudged back to the Head Compartment. Malfoy's lean body was stretched leisurely across the fine plush seats, his mercury colored eyes shut closed. Hermione noted how different the sleeping Malfoy heir seemed to look without his trademark scowl, or ever-irritating sneer. It occurred to Hermione that this was probably the first time she had ever seen him without one or the other plastered on his face.

_Maybe the train ride won't be as bad as I thought it would be, _Hermione thought as she slid the compartment door closed carefully behind her. _If he's asleep, he won't be much trouble._

Hermione's rising hopes were quickly diminished, however, when a familiar voice snarled, "Back so soon, Granger?"

"Malfoy," Hermione said bitterly, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she turned to face him. His eyes were half opened and his face had settled into a look of mild annoyance. "I liked it better when you were asleep."

"And I liked it better when you were gone," Malfoy retorted as he readjusted himself into a sitting position. "We don't all get what we want."

"Well, obviously," Hermione murmured as she sat across from him stiffly, crossing her arms. "If I got what I wanted, you'd still be a ferret."

"If I got what I wanted," Malfoy snarled, "you'd be dead."

Hermione tried to ignore the pang in her chest when he said that. To be fair, she didn't expect anything less from the Slytherin, but even so, it hurt to be wished dead. "Well, it sure is a shame, isn't it, Malfoy," Hermione said without thinking, "If Voldemort had won the war, you'd have gotten your wish. You bloody traitor!"

Malfoy regarded her with a stony expression on his face. "I wouldn't go there, Granger," he hissed.

Hermione chose to ignore his warning. "Too prideful to admit you were the Dark Lord's right hand soldier because you lost the war? If you had known we were going to win, you would've stayed on the Light Side. But that's just you, isn't it, Malfoy? Changing sides because you only wanted to be the victor; you didn't want your fancy robes to dirty up in jail when you ended up on the losing side. Merlin forbid the ferret got his pride hurt!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about, you filthy witch," Draco growled, his voice low and eerily calm despite his obvious, growing rage. His knuckles were paling and his jaw was clenched so tightly that Hermione could see the muscles bulging on the sides of his head.

"No," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I suppose I don't know what I'm talking about. But I do know enough to conclude that you, Draco Malfoy, are no better than your father."

Too late, Hermione realized she had gone just a tad bit too far.

Before she could comprehend what was going on, Malfoy shot up, closed the distance between them, and loomed over her threateningly, their foreheads nearly touching. His eyes were an ever-raging silver fire that bore into her own. But Hermione, like the observant Gryffindor she was, noticed something completely un-Malfoy-like in his mercurial eyes. Hermione had thought that _she _was the kindle to his rage, but, looking carefully, she cautiously wondered if his sudden anger was caused by another emotion. Was it sadness? Regret?

Or, dare she think it, loneliness?

But before Hermione could analyze it further, it was gone. "Listen here, Granger," Malfoy said, his dangerously low voice drawing Hermione's mind back. "You don't like this arrangement and I sure all hell don't either- Merlin knows I didn't come back just to be stuck sharing a common room with a mudblood. I'm going to make this simple, alright? You don't bother me, I won't bother you. But, for some reason, if you do decide to open that bloody mouth of yours around me one more time, I guarantee that I will do everything in my willpower to make this year bloody-_fucking-_hell for you. Do we understand each other?"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort back angrily, but she found that no words would come out. She looked at him again, his intense silver eyes looking every bit serious. Pressing her lips together, she decided against it and simply nodded.

"Good," Malfoy said curtly, then returned to his seat. He closed his eyes and began rubbing his temples in circles with two long, skinny fingers as if to soothe a developing headache.

Hermione's watched him, her thoughts making their way to that emotion she thought she had seen. Surely she didn't imagine it? And if she had, what could the Malfoy heir ever possibly be upset about? Couldn't be money problems; Malfoy was rich. Couldn't be parental problems; Malfoy was proud of his heritage. Couldn't be relationship problems; Malfoy didn't have a heart. No matter what theories Hermione would draw, none would ever make any sense.

Hermione sighed and slumped back into her chair. The girl from the Golden Trio could solve anything, _anything: _from the horcrux riddles to the most complicated trig problem. But, for once in her life, Hermione was stumped. And if anyone knew Hermione, they knew she wouldn't give up until she had found a solution. That was exactly what the Gryffindor genius was going to do.

* * *

><p><em>Damn that mudblood.<em>

The single thought repeated itself in Draco's head rhythmically as he attempted to soothe his pounding head. The damn Gryffindor was giving him a migraine.

She didn't have a clue -a bloody fucking clue!- how hard his life was. She didn't know a thing about him, how dare she accuse him of such shallow actions! How could she ever understand what he had gone through? She was a star, part of the bloody _Golden Trio, _someone who was rewarded for the things she had never done.

It was all about those three, wasn't it? How _they _defeated Voldemort. How _they _brought the war to an end. How _they _deserved all the credit. But was any of that true? Why, not the least bit!

Nobody thought about Draco. Nobody gave him credit for the things he did; hell, Potter got credit for those things too! They didn't understand, they _couldn't _understand, what sacrifices Draco had given. The Dark Lord had _lived _with him. He poured out what information he could gather to the Order, sacrificing his life to people he barely knew for the hopes of escape. Potter didn't know what it was like, to sleep under the same roof as an evil legend. He didn't know what it was like to keep yourself awake for days, living in fear of the Death Eaters who roamed the hallways.

So much. He had risked _so much. _

But after the Order had sucked all the information from him, they left him for dead. To give a Slytherin credit for a good deed was far too below their kind._  
><em>

They didn't bother to recognize Narcissa, whom without, Potter would be dead. It was _she _who deceived the Dark Lord and told him that The-Boy-Who-Couldn't-Seem-To-Die finally had.

And it was she who got punished for it as well.

* * *

><p><em>"I don't understand," Lucius Malfoy cried angrily as he paced across the fine Persian rug. "Potter is alive! How is this possible?"<em>

_"I seen Potter die!" One of the Death Eaters agreed. "He can't have come back to life in such a short amount of time."_

_"Maybe the Dark Lord missed?" Another suggested weakly._

_"Don't be stupid," Lucius snarled. "The Dark Lord never misses his mark!"_

_"Even a blind man couldn't miss that large head of Potter's," Draco, who had been silent during the argument, muttered bitterly. He was seated beside his mother, who was stiff beside her son, and he discreetly reached for her hand. She took it instantly and squeezed it._

_"No," Lucius agreed, glancing in Draco's direction. "I don't believe anyone could argue with that."_

_"After he died," one of the -brighter- Death Eaters said slowly, thoughtfully, "That hairy oaf -what's his name, Haggard?- carried him back. The boy had to have been revived during the trip by him. But, the question is, how?"_

_Silence followed the Death Eater's question. Suddenly, Lucius's head jerked up. His face was alight with cold recognition as a new idea hit him. He looked around, meeting each Death Eater's eyes challengingly as he spoke. "But what if," he said slowly. "Potter never died?"_

_"We went over that already, chief," the first Death Eater replied impatiently. "We all seen him die."_

_"Yes," Lucius said slowly. "But tell me, Kebede, do you remember what our old friend at the ministry told us about the talk of Harry being a Horcrux?"_

_"Yeah," Kebede said uncertainly._

_"What if Voldemort never killed _all _of Harry?" Lucius suggested._

_"I don't see where you're going with this," another Death Eater said._

_"Quiet, and I'll tell you!" Lucius snapped. "Now, as I was saying... What if, some how, the Dark Lord only killed the evil in Harry?" When no one said anything, Lucius explained more thoroughly, "What if Voldemort only killed the part of himself that resided in the boy?"_

_"So he never really died...," one of the Death Eaters said in awe._

_"Exactly, you idiot!" Lucius growled._

_"But that's not possible," Kebede cried, "we checked his pulse and confirmed he was dead!"_

_"There is a traitor among us!" Lucius said, his voice raising. He sought out everyone's eyes until it rested upon Narcissa. "And she is here with us tonight."_

_Draco felt his mother stiffen as all the Death Eater's eyes looked upon the woman with newfound hate. "Narcissa," Lucius snarled. "You lied to us. If not for you, our Dark Lord would live. I think you know the penalty."_

_Not a word was spoken as Narcissa met her husband's eyes. He waited -they all waited- for her to break, eyes hungry for her distraught and weakness. Finally, the silence broke._

_"I never wanted to be a Death Eater," she said, her voice surprisingly strong. Her head was raised high with what little pride a blood-traitor could posses. "You knew that, Lucius. I never wanted to get my son involved in this war and yet you involved him anyway. This war broke our family apart, and you let it. You shouldn't have expected anything less from me."_

_"I did what was best for our family," Lucius snarled. "I wanted nothing but to please you."_

_"What's best for our family?" Draco echoed in disbelief. "Is that what you think you've done?"_

_"Draco...," Narcissa spoke softly to her son, her tone warning, but he waved her off._

_"You never thought twice about us," Draco hissed. "You only did what you thought would make your Dark Lord proud. You almost killed me just to please him!"_

_"Now, Draco," Lucius said dangerously. "You've no idea what your talking about. Come and sit..."_

_"No," Draco snarled. "I know exactly what I'm talking about. You betrayed your family for your own sake. Look where that got you! Your lord is dead, and you have nowhere to run to!"_

_The Death Eaters who occupied the room visibly flinched at Draco's last few words. To say that Lucius was enraged would be a dramatic understatement._

_"That's why I betrayed you, Lucius," Narcissa's voice was surprisingly gentle in the tense atmosphere. "Because you never were the husband or the father you aught to have been."_

_Lucius withdrew his wand from his pocket and aimed it at his wife. "Then you are no wife of mine."_

* * *

><p>Hermione looked up from her book as the train drew to a stop.<p>

Hogwarts had been fully restored to its former glory over the summer, and no battle scars remained on the building. Hermione could say that she was somewhat impressed with how quickly it had been repaired.

She stood up, tucking her book carefully into her robes, and began to exit the compartment. She glanced over at Malfoy, who's eyes were shut closed and was still rubbing his temples. He seemed too lost in thought to notice their arrival. Hermione sighed quietly. _Curse my inability to hold grudges, _she thought. "Malfoy!" she barked at him.

He looked up at her sharply. His surprise faded into his usual glare quickly. "What do you want, Granger?"

"We're here," Hermione said briskly. "You can thank me later." And with that, she walked off.

"'Mione!" Ginny said as Hermione stepped off the train. "You two haven't killed each other yet!"

"Yet," Hermione said with a small sigh. Ginny gave her a questioning look. "I'll tell you later. Let's get to the carriages."

The two made their way quickly through the crowd to find the two boys they usually accompanied, but upon discovering that Harry and Ron had already left, they settled for a carriage with Luna and Neville instead.

"Hello Hermione, Ginny," Luna said airily. "How're the catropalogots treating you?"

"Er, good," Hermione said uncertainly.

"Luna was just telling me about Dager Dust," Neville said cheerfully.

"It's the best way to repel vampires," Luna informed. "I didn't bring any with me, but I'm fairly certain it wouldn't be hard to make some if you ever need any."

"Thanks," Hermione said, though she doubted she would _ever _need something of the sort. "I'll keep that in mind."

"So, I hear you're Head Girl," Neville said. "Congrats."

"It's not exactly as great as I thought it would be," Hermione murmured.

"Why not?" Neville asked. "You've always wanted to be Head Girl. You've talked about it since first year."

"_Malfoy_ is Head Boy," Ginny filled him in.

"I'm sorry to hear," Neville said. "That's just bad luck."

"You must be attracting the solmagons to get luck like that," Luna agreed.

"What are solmagons?" Neville asked. Hermione toned the two out as they carried on a discussion about solmagons and their tendencies to bring bad luck upon those that invaded their homes.

Finally, the carriage pulled to a stop, and the four exited the carriage. Ginny began to pull Hermione to the Great Hall, but Hermione shook her head. "You go ahead," Hermione said, smiling at her friend. "I've got to meet Professor McGonagall to discuss my Head duties."

"Okay," Ginny said cheerfully. "I'll make sure to save a little food for you. But you know how Ron is, so no promises."

"Thanks," Hermione said, the corners of her mouth twitching into an amused smile. Ginny, finally spotting her boyfriend, waved at Hermione before running off to catch up with him.

Hermione walked to the portrait that lead to McGonagall's new office and muttered the password, _"Caramel Creams"._ She stepped in and observed the Headmaster's (erm, headmistress's) office, preparing herself for the nostalgia she was sure to feel. It had changed a lot since Hermione had last been in here, when Dumbledore was alive. On the desk rested piles of neatly organized files and scattered notes instead of Dumbledore's bright and curious trinkets. Fawkes the Phoenix no longer lit up the room; instead, a large, sleek owl took its place. The old chandelier above her no longer filled the room with warmth, but instead seemed to cast a sad glow on everything it touched.

"Miss Granger," Headmistress McGonagall said cheerfully. "Do sit down."

Hermione did as she was told, still surveying the gloomy office.

"Yes," McGonagall murmured, watching Hermione. "Things just haven't been the same in here since Albus died." A small sigh escaped the old woman's lips and Hermione noticed that she had dark circles under her eyes. "I've tried my best to liven up the old office, but I suppose it will never be quite like it used to be."

"The password...," Hermione said.

A small smile graced McGonagall's lips. "He insisted on it," she gestured to the empty portrait behind her.

"Where _is_ Dumbledore?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"The man might be dead, Miss Granger," McGonagall said vaguely. "But he still has plenty of unfinished business to attend to."

Hermione wanted to question the Headmistress further, but she was interrupted by another visitor.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Take a seat." Malfoy did so, and McGonagall continued, "I know you must be wondering why you're here..."

"It isn't customary to call us in from the Great Hall on the first day," Hermione nodded.

"Shut up, Granger," Malfoy snapped.

"Make me, Malfoy," Hermione replied.

"Mr. Malfoy! Miss Granger!" McGonagall scolded. Both fell silent and McGonagall shook her head. "Oh dear, this might be harder than I thought..."

"What might be harder?" Hermione couldn't stop herself from asking. She ignored the glare she got from Malfoy and the mumbled, _"nosy mudblood" _that followed.

"You two have been chosen as the Head Boy and Girl for a reason," McGonagall began.

"What reason?" Hermione said again.

"I'm getting to that, Miss Granger," McGonagall said gently. Hermione pressed her lips together and murmured a quick apology. "You two have been chosen to end the house wars between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"What?" Hermione and Malfoy both shouted.

"Headmistress, I can't put up with that ferret, let alone _get along _with him!"

"And I can't be kind to a mudblood! What would my father say?"

"Both of you, sit down!" McGonagall ordered. Both did as they were told. "I _believe_, Mr. Malfoy, by what I was told last time, that your father..."

"I know," Malfoy interrupted in a clipped tone, clearly not open to discussion on the topic.

"I am aware of how sudden this request may seem," McGonagall amended, "but I only ask you to hear me out. Since the war, many have chosen to push the blames _away _from the ministry, and to Hogwarts instead. They blame it on the inner house rivalries. If such rivalries did not exist, the Slytherin and Hufflepuff families who were involved in Death Eater activities would have been persuaded otherwise by the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor houses."

"That's insane!" Hermione cried.

"Yeah," Malfoy muttered, "who would ever listen to a _Gryffindor?_"

McGonagall sighed. "I agree, Miss Granger. Unfortunately, the community does not. I don't expect much from either of you, just enough to prove to the Ministry that house rivalries are nothing short of mere childish bickering, and _can _be fixed."

"'Don't expect much'," Malfoy quoted, a disbelieving sneer on his face.

"You're asking a lot of us, Headmistress," Hermione said, albeit politely.

"I realize that," McGonagall said. "But our school depends on it. We haven't gotten the best reputation in the last ten years, and so the number of students who attend are rapidly decreasing. If we do not act soon, the school may face termination."

Hermione's eyes widened. Shut down the school! She glanced at Malfoy. _Well, _she thought, _it sure as heck won't be easy. But it's for the sake of Hogwarts! _"I'll do it!"

McGonagall turned to Malfoy. "Mr. Malfoy?"

He took a moment to ponder. "Fine," he said bitterly. He glanced at Hermione, his nose wrinkling. "But I won't enjoy it."

McGonagall clapped her hands together. "Perfect. Now go enjoy your meals."

Hermione stood and walked back to the Great Hall, her mind whirring. She was going to save the school! She glanced at Malfoy, who still didn't seem too happy about the idea. Hermione knew the difficulties she was going to face in acting civilized towards the Slytherin prince, but maybe -just maybe- in doing so, she would come to solve the mysterious look in Malfoy's eyes on the train ride down. And besides, she was saving Hogwarts in the process.

With this in mind, she strode off to the Great Hall, new determination alighting her steps.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Tackling another chapter edit. W00t. **

**You know you have no life when you're editing a FanFiction about a nonexistent couple you're obsessed with from the most nerd-related series that wasn't even written by you at nearly 1 in the morning. Whilst choosing to ignore all Facebook messages that are thrown your way in order to 'concentrate better'. **

**Pshh. Antisocial. Never.**

* * *

><p><em>Have a piece of American dream,<br>Open up and swallow on your knees,  
>And say "thank you,<br>I'd like some desperate measures, please."  
>For a first effort this<br>Feels kinda last ditch,  
>I guess this just<br>Got kinda drastic,  
>Trust us, you just fell off the bus, suckers<br>Yeah, well, payback is a mother fucker.  
>~Desperate Measures by Marianas Trench<em>

Draco stormed over to the Slythin table, a familiar scowl resting upon his face, and hovered above Blaise and Theodore. Beside them sat a first year, looking up at the two infamous Slythins with an awed expression on his face. Draco, muttering angrily under his breath, shoved the first year out of the seat. The defenseless boy looked like he was about to protest, but when he met the eyes of the angry Malfoy heir, he scrambled away. Blaise and Theodore snickered as Draco slid into the now vacant seat.

"How kind of you, Mate," Blaise commented.

"He shoulda seen in coming," Theodore put in.

"Damn first years," Draco muttered. "So bloody annoying."

"And easy," Theodore said, winking at a blonde a couple of seats across from him. She giggled and hid behind her hair.

"Drrraaakkeeyyyy!" Upon Draco's arrival, Pansy had squeezed herself into the seat between Draco and the boy beside him. The space was tight, and Pansy's leg was thrown across Draco's. "Where have you been?"

"Get off of me, Pansy," Draco growled, shoving her leg away from him.

Pansy pouted. "Don't be like this again, Drakey! I haven't seen you all summer- can't you be nice today for today?"

"My name is Draco," he said with clenched teeth. Then, in a mock-Pansy voice, he said- "Not _Drakey._"

More snickers from Theodore and Blaise.

"I thought you liked my nicknames," Pansy cooed.

Draco snorted. "I don't like your nicknames," he paused, his head tilted as if he was thinking, then he added, "Or you, come to think about it."

"Oh, you don't mean that, Drakey!" she cried shrilly.

"Oh, I mean every word of it," Draco replied instantly, shoving her. "Now, get out of here. Your perfume is suffocating me."

Pansy jutted out her lower lip in what she thought was a sexy pout -but was rather revolting to the blonde Slythin-. Tears began to form in her hazel eyes and she stood up, dashing from the Great Hall. Most of the Hogwarts students ignored the girl, as they had grown used to her drama, but the first years stared after her worriedly.

"Ohhh Drrraaakkkeeeyyy!" Blaise and Theodore mocked, laughing at the blonde. The two of them were used to Draco's mood swings that were Pansy-related. At one moment, he would be snogging her in public that surely was _not _legal, and another, he would appear as if he was ready to push her off a cliff. Yet no matter what Draco did, Pansy always returned to him. More than likely because of the money.

"Sod off," Draco growled. He stabbed at his meat with his fork. His issues with Ganger were far more important.

Be civil to _Granger? _Hell no! When was Draco Malfoy _ever _polite to anyone, let alone a Gryffindor? Let alone a _mudblood! _Draco shook his head angrily. That would completely destroy his reputation as the heartless Slytherin Prince, and he couldn't allow that to happen. But then again, what choice did he have? McGonagall had said the school could potentially be shut down if they didn't improve their House problems. As much as he hated to admit it, Draco _needed _this school, he _needed _a place to escape his father from. Hogwarts was his only option, and it always will be. If his father ever found him again once he moved away (which was highly unlikely to happen, because Draco was just that cunning and deceitful), he needed a backup plan. He could get a job at Hogwarts. He needed this school here for much, _much _longer.

_I'll only be kind to the mudblood when we're in public, _Draco decided silently. _And not even so much then. Just a simple nod in her direction, it's not like I have to talk to her or anything. Then, when we're back in the common room, I can be as nasty to her as I wish._

Yes, that would work. Though the buck-toothed witch didn't deserve so much from the Slythin Prince, he had no choice. But one question still remained- What would this do to his reputation?

Draco could feel his headache returning. _Bloody Granger, _Malfoy thought bitterly. _Why do you have to complicate my life further than it already is?_

"Hey, Mate," Theodore nudged him. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Draco snapped. He took a sip of his water and accidentally slammed his glass to the table with a greater amount of force than he had intended.

"Looks like somebody needs to get wasted," Blaise remarked, sharing a mischievous grin with Theodore. "We're having a little back-to-school party in the Slytherin common room."

"You know, the usual," Theodore butt in.

"Firewhiskey?" Draco inquired.

"No, butterbeer," Blaise replied sarcastically.

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco snapped. "I'm in."

"Good," Theodore grinned, regarding Draco. "You need it."

"More than you think," Draco growled. "Bloody _Granger _is Head Girl."

"We heard," Blaise sympathized.

"What was that old coot thinking, making a _mudblood _a Head?" Theodore agreed, glancing over at the Gryffindor table and wrinkling his nose.

"Let alone, a Gryffindor," Blaise nodded.

"I'm telling you," Draco muttered, "McGonagall hates me."

"Why don't you get your father to do something about it?" Theodore asked as he took a bite of mashed potatoes.

"You know why that won't work, Knott," Draco snapped, an icy edge to his voice.

Draco's two companions fell silent. Of course they knew; everyone knew. The Malfoy family had lost much respect since the war, despite Lucius's attempt to regain it. Sure, they had the family wealth, and sure, Lucius had managed to convince the ministry that he was not a Death Eater. But Potter had expressed his hate for the Malfoy family many times, and therefore the entire wizard community hated them. Yet another reason for Draco to hate the Golden Trio.

Blaise cleared his throat, sending Theodore a look that said, _way to go, Theodore._ He changed the subject in a way that was about as subtle as a cat."So, what do you think about the new potions master?"

"Professor Saravia?" Theodore glanced over at professors' table, his keen gaze searching for the fine blonde woman. "She's hot."

Draco looked up at the new teacher, and couldn't help but agree with his fellow Slytherin. Her long, silver curls slid elegantly down the professor's back, Hollywood-styled bangs covering one large, sapphire blue eye. Her thick lips were covered in cherry colored lipgloss. She looked as if she was in her twenties; this was probably her first year as a teacher.

Blaise smirked. "I'm glad I signed up for advanced potions classes this year."

Theodore glared down at his food. "Bloody lucky arse. I don't have potions this year."

Blaise took a bite of green beans, his eyes glittering triumphantly. "More for me, then."

Draco listened to his friends talk, trying hard not to think about Granger and how hard this year would be.

* * *

><p>"Mr. Malfoy. I see you've actually decided to arrive."<p>

Hermione glared at Malfoy as McGonagall spoke. She and McGonagall had been waiting outside the portrait that lead to their new rooms for more than fifteen minutes; McGonagall had insisted that both be present when she gave them their new password. If any, Hermione's pet peeve was when someone arrived late. She absolutely _hated _that; why set a time if you're not planning to arrive on it?

"Sorry, _Headmistress," _Malfoy drawled, half-sneering. "I had some... Catching up to do."

Judging by his ruffled shirt and messy hair, Hermione could almost guess just what kind of 'catching up' had to be done. And judging by the look on McGonagall's face, she did too.

"This is not the kind of behavior that I expect from the Head Boy," McGonagall scolded.

"The Head Boy is supposed to be admirable, to set a good example for the first years," Hermione agreed.

"Don't worry," Malfoy said, a smirk on his face. "I definitely made a good impression on her."

McGonagall, looking quite disturbed and flushed, cleared her throat. "Well," she said. "The password is 'Amortentia'. I will send an owl every week to alert you with a new password."

As the Headmistress lead them into the common room, Hermione couldn't help but gasp. The room was large, much larger than the Gryffindor common room, decorated elegantly with greens and reds. A fireplace resided to the left of Hermione, with a friendly-looking portrait above, who smiled and waved upon their entrance. In the middle of the room was a large couch and two chairs, with a rich, wooden table between them, presumedly for homework and studying. Hermione looked at it regretfully, knowing that she'd never be able to use it. No, she'd be doing all her work in her room. The entire wall across from them was nothing but a large window, giving the two a fabulous view of the castle grounds. Why, she could see everything: the lake, glittering in the sunlight, Hagrid's hut, looking warm and inviting to Hermione's eyes, the Whomping Willow, its arms billowing around leisurely, and the forbidden forest.

"It's alright," Draco said indifferently.

"Alright!" Hermione gasped. "It's amazing!"

"Miss Granger, your room is to the left," McGonagall said, gesturing towards the stairwell on the right, decorated with reds and yellows. "Mr. Malfoy, yours is to the right." She then gestured to the left, which decorated with Malfoy's own house colors. "I realize you must have much unpacking to do, so I'll leave you to it. It is amongst the two of you to decide your patrolling schedule, but I require at least one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Fail to do so..." McGonagall shot Malfoy a pointed look, "...will result in loss of Head status. I bid you farewell."

And with that, she was gone, leaving Hermione with Malfoy.

She was silent for a moment, shifting her feet awkwardly. She remembered her duty to keep Hogwarts running. "Um, so, this patrolling schedule..."

"I'll take morning shifts, you take night shifts," Malfoy snapped.

_Well, he didn't call me mudblood, _Hermione thought. _It's a start._

"Listen," she continued, "about the whole House wars thing..."

"No, _you _listen," Malfoy growled. "I will not, nor will I ever be, polite to a mudblood-" _Nevermind, _Hermione thought, sighing internally. "-I will occasionally acknowledge you, possibly at meals or anything of the like, but you must understand that it's all an _act." _Malfoy glared at her.

"That's _all_ you're going to do?" Hermione cried. "Malfoy, the school could be _shut down!"_

"So?" Malfoy said, arching an eyebrow. "They're lucky I'm doing that much."

"You really don't care about this school?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"Why should I?" Malfoy shot back.

"Oh, no reason," Hermione said angrily. "Except that maybe, just maybe, Hogwarts is more than just a school for some people. It's their _home. _An escape from the people who hurt them." Hermione saw faint surprise and flash across Malfoy's face, as if something she had said caught him off-guard. "Like Harry. His uncle-"

That seemed to hit a nerve in Malfoy. "I don't give a _damn _about Potter's sap story, Granger," he snapped. "In case you didn't know, it was an 'escape' for Voldemort, too." Hermione cringed at the name. "Look where that got him."

Hermione's temper snapped. "You're heartless, Malfoy, you know that?"

Malfoy smirked, though his eyes did not reflect the confident expression on his face. It held, instead, some odd sort of emotion. "I'm reminded every day."

"Well," Hermione said hotly, "If you're not going to do anything to save the school, I will."

She stormed off into her room, practically fuming with anger. How could Malfoy be such a selfish git? Why did _she _have to do all the work? Of course, she really shouldn't have expected anything more from him. She flung herself onto her bed and sighed.

This would be a lot harder than she thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Thanks soo much for the reviews and alerts! :D Sorry I'm late on the update. I've been very busy lately, I was gonna post it at around 9 PM but we had an awful storm that knocked out our power. :\ Also, a quick note- School is starting soon, so I won't have as much time to update. So, starting tomorrow, new chapters will be posted every Friday.**

**Also, I've been getting reviews asking to speed the story up a little. I know it's boring right now, but the next chapter will have some more action, I promise. (:  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.**

* * *

><p><em>You don't have to believe me,<br>But the way I, way I see it,  
>Next time you point a finger<br>I might have to bend it back  
>Or break it, break it off.<br>~Playing God by Paramore_

"Move it over a little," Malfoy's distinct voice reached Hermione's ears. Muffled, but distinct. Hermione sat up, her eyebrows knitting together. _Who is he talking to?_

Quietly, she hoped off her bed and cracked open her door a little. "Yes, Master Malfoy," replied a high-pitched, shaky voice. "I told you not to call me that!" Malfoy snapped.

_Is that a_ _house elf?_ Hermione wondered, new anger alighting inside of her. It was against the rules to use the house elves for personal matters! The fact that he was using a house elf at all made Hermione angry. Why, the way house elves were being treated, it was just cruel. She slipped through the open door and peered down the stairwell. What she saw made her toffee-colored eyes widen in disbelief and ignited her anger further.

"Is that a _piano_?" she cried as she walked down the stairs for a closer inspection.

Malfoy's head shot up and he glared at Hermione. "What does it look like, Granger?"

"Is that even allowed?" Hermione said shrilly.

Malfoy shrugged. "Makes no difference to me."

"Do you even _play_?" Hermione continued, his words falling deaf upon her ears. There was so many things wrong with this picture! "Not to mention, using a house elf to deliver it! Why, the poor thing! This is exactly why I started S.P.E.W-"

"Nobody _cares _about your stupid organization," Malfoy snapped. "Why do you think nobody joined it?"

"People did too join it," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.

"Probably so they could laugh at you," Draco muttered. "You were the laughing stock of the entire Slytherin house that year. Even the Hufflepuffs found your attempts pathetic and weak."

"You don't know that," Hermione protested weakly.

Malfoy threw Hermione one of his infamous smirks. "You'd be surprised by what I know, Granger."

"I don't want to hear about your love life, Malfoy," Hermione said.

"Really?" Malfoy replied, feigning shock. "I thought I was every mudblood's dream." He smirked. "At least, it's what I'm told."

"Since when did you converse with mudbloods?" Hermione shot back. "I thought you were too _good _for them. You know, being a _Malfoy _and all." She said it as if it was the most revolting thing in the world. Which, in her opinion, it was.

There is was again. That _look. _As soon as Hermione mentioned him being a Malfoy, his mask of indifference would break and his true feelings would emerge. His cold, stony-colored eyes would soften and his pale, hard face would crumble into something different. Something so... Un-Malfoy-like. Was that agony? Anger? Hermione was still unable to identify what it meant. But, like last time, it faded before Hermione could make sense of it.

"I'm conversing with one right now," Malfoy said lazily. Was it just her, or did his voice hitch a little?

Hermione had a witty comeback on the tip of her tongue, but she found herself hesitating. She couldn't forget that look in his eyes, that small moment of vulnerability of which his mask crumbles and the true Malfoy would show through. The insult died on her tongue, and instead, she found herself saying, "Look, Malfoy. I know I'm not your... Most favorite person," -at this, Malfoy snorted- "But you know what McGonagall said. The entire school's welfare depends on _us! _We have to be a good example for the other houses. I don't know about you, but I don't think this bickering is going to get us anywhere."

Faint surprise traced Malfoy's features. He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I don't have time to listen to you preach, and quite frankly, you're boring me. What are you trying to say, Granger?"

"What I'm saying is," Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't believe she was about to say this... "Truce, Malfoy?"

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up further. "A truce?" He repeated. Hermione nodded, sticking her hand out. Malfoy scoffed and shook his head. "What makes you think," he said slowly, "I'd ever made a truce with you?"

Hermione's hand slowly dropped back down to her side. "Well then," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "That's too bad, Malfoy. I really had thought, for a second, that you weren't the selfish git you always made out to be." As she spoke, she made her way to the portrait. "That's too bad."

And with that, she left.

* * *

><p>Draco watched Hermione leave, an amused expression on his face.<p>

She really thought that a few well-spoken words would suddenly erase a lifetime of hatred? _"The entire school's welfare depends on us!" _The words rang in Draco's mind. He scoffed and shook his head. _Really, Granger, _he thought, _I don't have time for your public service announcements._

"Master Malfoy?" inquired the house elf quietly. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," Draco said, waving the house elf off. "You can go now."

Before the words had even left Draco's lips, the house elf vanished. Draco rolled his eyes. _Stupid creatures. _

He took a seat at the piano's bench, delicately running his fingers down the keys. A smile lit up his face as he fit his fingers in their familiar positions, his posture immediately fixing itself. He pressed down on the keys, slowly and gently, getting familiar with the piano. Then, he began to play.

Draco had always enjoyed playing the piano. For as long as he could remember, he had played the fine instrument. Granted, his father tried to get him interested in other things, like sports or languages or other instruments, but Draco wasn't interested. When given a French tutor, he wouldn't give the teacher time to teach. Instead, he'd ask questions like, "How do you say 'piano' in French?" or, "What kind of French symphonies do you know?" When taking guitar lessons, he would ask, "How do you translate guitar notes to piano notes?"

His obsession over the unique instrument befuddled and annoyed the Malfoy sire. And anything that ever befuddled or annoyed Lucius would anger him. So Draco was forced to attend piano lessons in private, arranged by his mother.

And oh, did he ever enjoy those lessons! Draco had always looked forward to the mere 30 minutes every week where he could let himself go into the deep, melodious tones of the piano. Every night he would practice adamantly -by putting a _muffliato _charm outside his door and using a small wooden piano figurine from his bedside that was charmed to become a full-sized piano when Draco commanded-. By the time he was ten, Draco could probably play every Beethoven piece if he was introduced to them. By the age of twelve, he was producing his own songs.

Nobody knew about his love for pianos, however. No, if any Slytherin ever heard about his secret passion, his reputation would surely be ruined! That was why he was so uncertain about bringing one here, so visible to Granger's muddy eyes. He had often thought about keeping it in his room instead, but it reminded him of when he hid his piano music from his father. No, he would not hide in fear like that ever again. From a _mudblood, _no less!

Granger would probably tell people about it, but who would believe her? No one but the Weasel and Scarhead. He would simply wave them off as rumors. No one would ever be able to fathom the cold-blooded Slytherin prince as a soppy music lover.

It was just another thing that the world would never know about him.

* * *

><p>"Draco Malfoy? With a <em>piano<em>?" Ginny said in disbelief.

"Yes," Hermione said, "Preposterous, isn't it?"

"Does he even _play_?"

"That's what I said," Hermione agreed.

Hermione was in the Gryffindor common room, sitting cross-legged on the plush red couch and facing her red-headed friend, who was seated on the cushion beside her in a similar fashion. The common room was generally empty, as most of the Gryffindors were either unpacking or out in the hallways socializing with old friends from other houses, or getting to know their roommates.

After Malfoy's cold rejection, Hermione instantly found herself seeking out her companions. She had told them the entire story of Malfoy's unnecessary -and rule-breaking- use of house elves and the large grand piano that now occupied their common room. She had left left out the part about the truce, however, and Malfoy's strange behavior.

"Maybe it was just for decoration?" Ron asked. He was currently engaged in a game of wizard chess with Harry.

"Why would he buy a piano for decoration?" Hermione said.

"To flaunt his money?" Harry guessed as he watched his knight be destroyed by Ron's bishop. He swore under his breath and moved another piece forward.

"Sounds like Malfoy," Ron agreed and he moved his queen out without hesitation, destroying Harry's.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed.

"He's such a git," Ginny said. "I feel so bad for you, 'Mione."

Hermione's thoughts returned to that look in Malfoy's eyes that she had seen earlier. "Does Malfoy seem...," she began slowly, uncertainly, "...Different to you guys?"

"What do you mean?" Harry inquired.

"I mean," Hermione hesitated. "Does he seem like he's... Changed this year?"

Ron scoffed. "Not hardly," he said. "He's still the same bloody nuisance that he was last year."

Ginny and Harry made noises of agreement.

"Why do you ask?" Ginny wondered.

"No reason," Hermione said quickly. Ginny's blue eyes narrowed and she looked as if she wanted to ask more, but a sudden outburst from Harry interrupted her. "Darn it, Ron! You beat me again!"

Rom grinned smugly.

"Wizard chess is so violent," Hermione said, glad for a subject change. "It's so unnecessary."

"Better the chess pieces than us," Harry reasoned, reminding Hermione about their first year adventures. Hermione smiled slightly and shook her head, allowing herself to get lost in her memories.

* * *

><p>An hour and a half later, Hermione bid farewell to her friends and made her way back to the Head Dormitories. She figured Draco would be out causing trouble with his fellow Slytherins, but when she stepped through the portrait, she found the surprise of her life.<p>

There was Draco Malfoy, seated at the piano's bench, the sunlight catching his hair and reflecting upon his soft, mercury-colored eyes. His fingers flew gracefully down the piano's keys, emitting the most harmonious sound Hermione had ever heard. The song rang soft and gentle, sounding almost bittersweet, and Hermione found herself near tears as she listened to it.

What got her attention more than the song, however, was his expression. For once in his life, Malfoy did not look indifferent, nor did he have a sneer on his face. No, Malfoy's face was alighted with the same bittersweet-ness as his piano music. A small smile graced his features, yet his eyes held a distinct type of sadness. He seemed relaxed yet vulnerable as he played on, almost hesitantly, pouring his feelings out through the music.

Hermione was so mesmerized by this image that she didn't hear the portrait slam shut behind her.

Malfoy looked up, his song coming to an abrupt end, and his cold mask back into place. The lighthearted mood the music had created instantly shattered. "M-Malfoy...," Hermione stuttered. "That music..."

"Tell anyone," Malfoy interrupted her, his voice dangerously low, "and I'll kill you."

With that, he stalked out of the room, leaving a still-shocked Hermione standing there, in a daze.

* * *

><p>Draco stomped down the hallway, an icy glare permanently residing upon his face. He was late for the Slytherin party; he had gotten too caught up in his piano music that he had lost track of time. He decided to blame it on the mudblood; if she had interrupted him sooner, he wouldn't be late!<p>

Of course, he knew an accusation of that sort was childish. He was only throwing the blame on her because he didn't want to take the blame upon himself. But in a way, it was somewhat true.

He muttered the password, glaring at the portrait. She gave a little _"hmph", _muttering how she didn't like his attitude and she had a right to deny him access to the common room, but after a few colorful remarks from Draco, she swung open wordlessly.

Instantly, loud bass music reached Draco's ears, a band that he instantly recognized as The Whomping Willows. There were many Slytherins who were up and dancing, mainly consisting of energetic first years. The smell of sweat and firewhiskey filled the air.

"Draco, mate!" Blaise slurred, swinging his arm around Draco and spilling the drink in his hand over Draco's white shirt in the process. "I didn't think you'd make it!"

Draco pushed his drunk friend away. "Watch it, Zabini!" he growled as he surveyed the stain on his shirt.

"Hey, take it easy," Theodore -somber, thankfully- came up behind Draco and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can fix the shirt."

"I'm not that drunkard's drink disposal," Draco snapped.

"Hey, relax, will you?" Theodore said.

"Don't tell me what to do, Knott!" He growled.

"Looks like somebody's a lil' tense," Blaise hiccuped. "I know what'll cheer you up..." He conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and grinned at Draco lopsidedly.

Draco snatched the bottle away from Blaise and took two large gulps. He felt himself relax a little as it sizzled down his throat and sending his vision in a frenzy.

"That's my boy," Blaise said, slapping Draco on the back.

_Imagine how angry the mudblood will be when I come back drunk. _Draco thought, groaning internally at the thought. He mentally scolded himself for allowing his mind to drift back to the filthy being. He came here to have fun and forget about all his problems; like his father and his horrid dorm mate. And he knew just how to do it...

He took another large gulp.

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><p><strong>AN: Fun fact here... The Whomping Willows is an actual band that was inspired by Harry Potter. I've never listened to them before, but I've heard good things about them.. They have songs about Draco! :D "Stand By My Side" is supposed to be a really sad and melodramatic Draco song...**

**It was either the Whomping Willows I was going to mention, or "Draco and the Malfoys", "Harry and the Potters", "The Weird Sisters", or "The Remus Lupins" XD  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey everyone! :D I know I've said this a dozen times before, but thanks soooo much for your reviews and story alerts! I cannot stress how much they mean to me and how much they inspire me to keep writing. (: Y'all are the best!**

**Review reply for Kilila-Kun: No, I decided against using your idea in this chapter, but it might be a possibility for a different chapter. ;) Thanks for the idea, though!**

**Somewhat-Dramione moment in this chapter. :D**

**Sorry it's so short. . I got kinda rushed... There's a new Degrassi on tonight, and I cannot miss it! :D I promise I'll make the next one extra long to make up for it. (:**

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.**

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><p><em>You make your way in,<em>  
><em>I resist you just like this<em>,  
><em>You can't tell me to feel<em>,  
><em>The truth never set me free<em>,  
><em>So i did it myself.<br>~Careful by Paramore_

Hermione woke to the sound of her alarm the next morning, and she groggily opened her eyes. She sat up and stretched, then checked the time on her clock. 5:45.

She threw off her covers, gathering her school robes and making her way to the large bathroom that was connected to her room. She placed her clothes on the shiny marble sink top and crossed over to the massive bathtub, turning the knob to hot and placing her feet delicately in the rising water.

Hermione slowly relaxed as she sank into the tub. A shaky sigh escaped her. She hadn't slept well last night; her mind was too occupied with Malfoy and his strange behaviors. When she did happen to fall asleep, however, her dreams were haunted by sad silver eyes and piano music: a riddle most unlike any she had ever faced.

Obviously, Malfoy didn't want Hermione's truce. He couldn't have made it clearer if he had slapped her. But how was she supposed to figure out this Slytherin mystery without learning more about him? And how could she learn more about him, without getting to know him better?

Hermione sighed and shook her head. She shouldn't think about this now; why, it was the first day of school! She should be thinking about how excited she was about her classes! She should be thinking about how much she couldn't wait to compare her schedule with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. She shouldn't be thinking about that annoying ferret.

_Whom, upon recent discovery, _a tiny voice inside her head whispered, _might not be all he's made up to be._

_No! _She silently screamed back. _You will _not _think about Malfoy today._

She shook her head; her intention to take a relaxing bath was ruined. _Way to be a killjoy, _she growled to the part of her mind that refused to let go of Draco. She stepped out of the tub, reached for a towel, and dried herself in a weary fashion. Folding the towel carefully and placing it upon the shiny golden towel rack, she then dressed herself just as painfully slowly. She cast a small charm to get rid of the fog on the mirror and began to work on the disaster that was her hair.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione rushed down the stairs, the Slytherin forgotten and an excited smile on her face. Her expression faltered, however, when she saw what -or, in this case, who- was on the couch. Slytherin _not _forgotten.

Malfoy was sprawled there, his white button-up shirt stained with Merlin-knows-what. He reeked of firewhiskey, his hair was tossled about, and his mouth was hanging open rather stupidly. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked quite pitiful. Hermione found herself angry at the Slytherin for being so reckless and un-dutiful -he was, after all, supposed to be patrolling around this time-. And to get drunk? Merlin, he was only 17, it was against the law for him to drink!

Despite all this, however, Hermione found herself gently shaking the young Malfoy heir. "Malfoy," she said somewhat roughly. She was, after all, still angry. "Wake up!"

Suddenly, he jumped, his forehead smacking into Hermione's. Both cried out in surprise. Malfoy tried to stand, but ended up stumbling over Hermione's feet and tripping them both. Hermione fell back with an _"oomph." _Malfoy's legs, however, were still entangled in her own, and so she dragged him to the floor with her.

Hermione looked up at the Malfoy, who's face was merely inches from hers. His arms rested on either side of her, slender and toned, like a porcelain cage. She felt slightly claustrophobic: she had never been so close to the Slytherin in her life... Or any boy, for that matter. Goosebumps flirted against her arms were his long, skinny fingers met her sun-kissed skin. His breath, cold and ragged, tickled the skin on her neck, and she resisted the urge to shiver. She could see every pore in his skin, every shade of blonde in the individual strands that made up his pale hair. She choked, though she wasn't sure if it was from his proximity, or the overwhelming stench of alcohol that came with it. His eyes met hers for a second. Confusion resided in his expression, and she watched as it turned to shock and then to anger.

"What the hell, Granger?" Malfoy shouted as he jumped off of her.

"I-I'm sorry!" Hermione's words stumbled over each other, her apology out of mere habit and bewilderment. She hurried stand as well.

"What were you _doing_?" he continued, his voice rising above hers. "You clumsy mudblood, how dare-"

Hermione suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be mad at the Slytherin. "How dare me?" she screeched. "How dare _me_? How dare _you! _I was only being a friendly person and doing you a _favor _by waking your drunk arse up before you were late to class! You haven't even gone on patrol yet!"

"Late to class!" Malfoy echoed, seething, "Patrol! I was going to skip!"

"Skipping is against the rules!" Hermione yelled back.

"Like I give a damn!" he shot back. "I have a hangover, I need the rest!"

"You shouldn't have gotten drunk in the first place!"

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't do!" Malfoy shouted. On instinct, he withdrew his wand. Hermione, seeing him do so, withdrew her own.

Neither noticed the portrait on the wall as it rushed off.

"Don't point that thing at me!" Hermione cried.

"Don't point _that _thing at me!" Malfoy retorted.

"Like you have the guts to curse me," Hermione said.

"Try me!" Malfoy growled.

"_Students!_" Suddenly, McGonagall burst through the portrait door, surprising both of the Heads. They jumped and instantly put their wands aside._ How did she know? _Hermione wondered.

McGonagall glared at the two as she turned to the portrait above the fireplace. "Thank you for warning me," she said graciously.

"My pleasure, Headmistress," the portrait replied.

"You too," McGonagall said to the two young Hogwarts students. "My office. Now."

_Great. Bloody great. _Draco thought bitterly as he followed McGonagall to her office. _First day of school, and I'm already in trouble. Thanks to the mudblood._

Granger's thoughts seemed to be identical to Draco's because she was looking at him with a glare that rivaled his own infamous one. He returned it gladly.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached McGonagall's office. "Sit," she commanded, in a none-too-friendly voice. As the two did as she told, Draco was surprised to see McGonagall's face break from anger to exhaustion, and she sank into her desk chair with a sigh.

"Is everything alright, Headmistress?" Granger asked. Draco shot her a look. Why did she have to be so bloody nosy?

McGonagall, however, seemed not to have heard her. "Oh, I was afraid of this..."

"Afraid of what?" Malfoy shot Granger another look. _Would you shut up? _he told her silently. She ignored it.

"I'm afraid," McGonagall said, looking up at the two, "that I will have to resort to plan B."

"What's plan B?" Granger asked. For once, Draco did not get annoyed at her nosiness. He wanted to know as well.

"Trust exercises." McGonagall said simply.

"What?" Draco shot out of his chair. "I will not take _trust exercises _with a mudblood!"

"_Sit down_, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "And do _not_ call Miss Ganger a mudblood."

Draco, grumbling angrily, did as he was told, though he did not cease to glare at McGonagall. She chose to ignore it.

"Now," she said, "Once every Monday at five-thirty, I will have you meet with Professor Saravia in her classroom. She will put you though a series of bonding exercises that has been proven to work on the worst of people." She glanced at Draco when she said that. "Professor Saravia is highly experienced in treating old rivalries like yourselves."

"That's why you hired her, isn't it?" Granger asked. "Not because she's a good potions master, but to help the school get over their house rivalries?"

"Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, smiling fondly at her student. Draco sneered at the image.

"Now, return to the Great Hall. I imagine you have some time left before breakfast is over."

Both students stood up, mumbling, and turned to leave. "Remember," McGonagall called after them, "This is your warning. If I ever catch you two in a serious fight like that again, there _will _be consequences."

Draco said nothing. He was too caught up in his thoughts... _Bonding exercises? With Granger? _He couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

Suddenly, he was having second thoughts about returning to Hogwarts.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, about that Friday update thing? Yeah, I lied... (: I couldn't wait to post this chapter! I was so excited for it... I suppose it's because of the mini-almost-sorta-but-not-really-Dramione moment that goes on in this chapter. It's not really a Dramione moment as it is a moment of realization for the two... But you'll see what I mean soon. (:**

**Not exactly the best song I could have chosen for this chapter, but whatever.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to say this again? I'm getting tired of retyping it. T.T I don't own anything.**

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><p><em>Memories, sharp as daggers<em>  
><em> Pierce into the flesh of today<em>  
><em> Suicide of love took away all that matters<em>  
><em> And buried the remains in an unmarked grave in your heart<br>~Killing Loneliness by HIM_

Thirty minutes.

Only thirty minutes left.

Draco watched the clock intently, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. Only thirty minutes left until class was over, only thirty minutes left until the dreaded _bonding _exercises. The words itself disgusted Draco! He suppressed a gag as he thought about it.

What would their professor make them do? Would it be one of those "Catch-Me-From-Falling" kind of exercises or would it be... Worse? Would she make them play the stupid get to know you games?

Draco shook himself from his thoughts. _Stop being a bloody Granger and asking too many questions, _his mind hissed at him. Instead, he tried to pay attention to his potions teacher -who just so happened to be their tutor, which didn't help distract Draco from his thoughts at all-.

For thirty long minutes, Draco learned about the dangerous effects of Aconite if not used properly (for its leaves are highly poisonous), facts that Draco was sure he'd never need to use in reality. As boring as it was, Draco hoped it never ended. But, like all things do, it did.

As the class was dismissed, Draco rose slowly and moved towards the front, where Professor Saravia was attempting to organize her desk, worrying her plump lower lip while doing so. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger doing the same, a look of doubt on her face. The young professor, however, didn't seem to notice them as she continued to organize. Draco, a bit impatient, cleared his throat.

Saravia jumped, a small squeak escaping her lips and sending a stack of papers flying. "Oh, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger," she said, once she had calmed down a little. "I completely forgot about the trusting classes!"

"It's too bad I didn't," Draco murmured under his breath.

Saravia, who had begun to work her way towards a small door in the back of the class room, turned around and replied, "What was that?"

"Nothing," Draco growled.

Saravia, satisfied with his answer, turned back and unlocked the door. Draco watched her, unsure of what she was planning to do. He could almost _feel _Granger's curiosity and rolled his eyes, nearly letting out a snort. Saravia, who turned back to face the two young students, said, "Well?" When neither of the two budged, she further said, "Aren't you coming?"

_Right, _Draco thought, feeling rather stupid, as he made his way to the mysterious door. As he entered the room, he couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock.

The room was actually quite ordinary. Wooden floors, wooden shelves, wooden walls. Many rare potion ingredients and difficultly brewed potions lined the shelves, along with some strange trinkets of which Draco could not identify. A strange decoration hung above the doorway, which Granger seemed to recognize, and that made it unimportant to Draco. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room with two chairs on either side. It wasn't too small, but it certainly wasn't too big either. It was just ordinary.

So what caused Draco, the Malfoy heir, the one who's seen everything, to be surprised?

It was because of what lay on the old chipped wooden table, the two objects which glowed dimly and looked quite uninviting and even taunting.

Two mini pensieves.

* * *

><p>Hermione looked around the room, a small smile on her face. The place seemed cheery, the small trinkets that aligned the room reminding her somewhat of Dumbledore's office. It was plain, yes, but Hermione liked plain. When she saw the dream-catcher that hung above the door frame, she almost smiled.<p>

She almost began to like it.

Almost.

Her eyes somehow found Malfoy's, and she noticed the strange expression on his face. Why did he seem so horrified? She followed his gaze and found the two small pensieves, a small gasp escaping her lips._ No, no, no, no, _she thought, her mind racing as she imaged as to why they would be here. Surely they couldn't be _using _them! But no matter what other explanation she could come up with, none of them made any knew what was going to happen, and she didn't like one bit of it. At all. _  
><em>

They looked almost like a small bowl, but with stone instead of wood. They had intricate designs on them, which marked them as pensieves. Otherwise, Hermione would not have known what they wore. The dark blue liquid glowed eerily, looking unwelcoming.

"No need to worry," Saravia said, watching the two with an amused expression on her face. "It's not as bad as you think."

"Not as bad!" Malfoy exploded. Hermione cringed at the sound of his voice, sounding angrier than she had ever heard it. "I will _not _let that bloody mudblood look into my memories!"

"Mister Malfoy," Saravia's voice was harsh and clipped. "We will never use the term 'mudblood' in my presence. If you so much as begin to utter it, so help me I will put you in so many detentions that you will no longer know what it's like to have any spare time on your hands. Do we understand each other?"

Malfoy, who looked a bit angry (but thankfully didn't say anything about it), only nodded.

"Good," Saravia beamed at him, her friendly demeanor back. "Now, like I said, it isn't as bad as you think it is, honestly. Take a seat, and I'll explain what we're going to do."

"No offense, Professor," Hermione said quietly as she slid into the wooden chair, "but I think it's self-explanatory."

"Things aren't always what they seem," Saravia said, a playful smile alighting her delicate features. "No, in the pensieve before you, you're going to place a memory that you don't ever want the other to view. So that way you won't let your partner view it by accident in the future exercises."

"Only one?" Malfoy asked. His expression was unreadable.

"Only one." Saravia confirmed. Malfoy looked grim upon hearing the news.

Hermione thought for a moment. What was one moment that she didn't want Malfoy to ever see? There were definitely many. But what was one that was absolutely _vital _that Malfoy never saw? She instantly ruled out many on her list. After a few more moments of thinking, she slowly withdrew a memory and placed it in the bowl. It lit up instantly, becoming a lighter blue, seeming to cast a cold, haunting glow.

"Good," Saravia said. She took both the bowls and placed them on an empty spot on a shelf and took out two more empty ones. She placed them on the table. "Now, I'm going to randomly take a memory from each of your minds and place them in the other's bowl. Then you'll view the memory."

"Is there any way to tell what memory of mine that Malfoy's viewing?" Hermione asked anxiously. Saravia shook her head and Hermione's heart sank. How will she be able to tell if he saw something embarrassing or blackmail worthy?

She watched anxiously as Saravia withdrew a memory from Malfoy, a funny expression playing on his face. She couldn't help but be a little bit excited, however. What secrets could she learn of Malfoy? Maybe something that could help her learn more of the Slytherin prince? Something that could help her solve the puzzle that is Draco Malfoy? Yes, that was something she could definitely use right now; a clue to help her figure out this mystery.

Her heart began to pound as Saravia's wand tip touched Hermione's temple, sending shivers down her spine. _OhMerlin, ohMerlin, ohMerlin, _she thought repeatedly as the memory left her mind. This was it. Malfoy might now have access to one of Hermione's deep secrets -even though she didn't have many, there were still good odds that he might get one-.

Saravia placed the memory in Malfoy's bowl. A ghostly smile formed on her face and she looked between the grave students.

"Now, begin."

* * *

><p><em>Draco found himself standing in a dark corridor of the Gryffindor hallways, which were at the time completely abandoned. A nearby window allowed a small bit of moonlight to peak through, casting a seemingly sad glow. What was sadder than that, however, was the girl it was shining down on.<em>

_ There, on the floor_, _her hair in a disarray around her and tears streaking her face, was none other than the Hermione Granger. Draco rolled his eyes. Granger _always_ cried, what was so important about this moment? He began to think that these exercises were a waste of time._

_ He surveyed the girl again. Her shoulders shook as another sob overcame her, her hair standing up in all the wrong places. Her makeup was smeared... Wait. When did Granger wear makeup?_

_ Then, Draco noticed her dress. It was a nice, delicate pink color, made of fine silk. Draco was surprised that the mudblood could afford such nice formal wear. But why did it seem so familiar?_

_Then, it hit Draco. It was the dress she wore to the Yule Ball! So this must be the night of it. That explains the fancy clothes, makeup, and why it was so quiet... But that didn't explain why she was crying._

_Wait a second... Didn't Weasel upset her that night? Yes, it was the talk of the school for the rest of the week. How he was jealous of Granger's date. Anyone could hear her yelling at him from a mile away with that man voice of hers. And, like stereotypical Granger, she had ran off crying._

_"Miss Granger?"_

_Draco had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the approaching figure. Granger must not have either, because at the sound of his voice, she jumped. When she saw who it was, she relaxed a little. "O-oh, Headmaster," she hiccuped, her voice still shaky from crying. "I'm s-sorry if I'm crowding up the h-halls... I w-was just about to r-return to my r-room..." She began to stand as she spoke, but Dumbledore interrupted her._

_"No, Miss Granger, it's quite alright. Lemon drop?" He pulled out a handful of colorful candies from his robes that Draco didn't recognize._

_"No t-thank you," Granger said._

_"Are you sure?" Dumbledore inquired as he unwrapped one for himself and popped it into his mouth. "I often find that the muggle candy helps me calm down. Strange, isn't it? How something that doesn't posses a bit of magic can work its magic into comforting myself..."_

_"Comfort food?" Granger sniffled, a small smile on her face._

_"Exactly!" Dumbledore said. "What an ingenious word for it. I might have to start using that for myself..."_

_"Well," Granger said slowly as she reached for the candy. "I suppose one couldn't hurt."_

_"That's the spirit," Dumbledore cheered. He watched her unwrap it and insert it into her mouth. "Now, would you care to tell me why you were crying?"_

_"Oh," Granger said hastily. "I..."_

_"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, his voice softer than Draco had ever heard. "I have that confiding in someone can often times lessen the burden that is placed upon us."_

_Granger let out a small sigh, blowing a tuft of brown hair from her face. "I wouldn't be surprised if you knew already, Professor."_

_"I have heard some things," Dumbledore admitted. "But the experience can be told quite differently from the one who experienced it."_

_"I suppose so," Granger said doubtfully. "This dance... It was supposed to be perfect. My dream come true. I finally fit in somewhere; I wasn't the buck-toothed freak anymore. At least not to Ron or Harry." Her eyes shown with pain and Draco knew she was remembering the times where he had often taunted her for her oversized teeth. _

_"And at first, it _was _my dream come true," she continued. "Viktor was the perfect guy; polite, sweet, and he didn't flirt with any other girl. But when I went to tell my best friends about it..." _

_She held back a sob and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ron just... Looked at me with this awful expression on his face. Like I had somehow become that obnoxious girl that I was in the first year. And it's just not fair, Professor! After all those years, I tried to be as brave as Harry and as funny as Ron. After all those years, I had finally thought that they were happy with who I was. That _I _was happy with who I was. _

_"But when I talked to Ron, it seemed as if everything had been for nothing. I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough to be his friend!"_

_Granger began to cry again and Dumbledore patted her back in comfort. She leaned into him, tears pouring down her pale cheeks. Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but Draco never learned what he said, because he was instantly sucked out of the memory._

* * *

><p><em>White.<em>

_That's what Hermione instantly thought of as she landed inside of Malfoy's memory. There was white everywhere; the floors, the walls, the clothes. A sharp, tangy, and somehow familiar scent reached her and she wrinkled her nose. _Ugh, _she thought, _I always hated the smell of hospitals...

Wait, _her mind back-petaled. _Are we in a hospital?

_Sure enough, she was. She looked around, taking in the couches and the counter and the nurse behind it... She must be in a waiting room, she decided. _

_"Welcome to St. Mungo's, can I help you?" the nurse said politely._

_"I'm here for Narcissa Malfoy," said a voice. Hermione instantly whipped around as the words reached her ears. A very grave looking Malfoy stood across from the nurse. _He looks awful, _Hermione thought. Dark circles hung beneath his dull, lifeless eyes and his hair was tousled. His clothes were wrinkled and look as if they were thrown on rather hastily. _This must have been some time in the summer.

_The nurse instantly straightened up and fully looked at the Malfoy heir. "You must be Draco Malfoy." When she received no reply -which surprised Hermione greatly; she had expected him to snap at her-, the nurse said, "follow me."_

_Hermione followed the two down the corridor and towards the elevator. The nurse pressed the "level 4" button, which Hermione recalled was the floor for Special Cases. Her brow creased and she wondered why Narcissa was in the Special Case floor. Heck, she wondered why Narcissa was in St. Mungo's the begin with!_

_The elevator door opened and the nurse stepped out, leading Malfoy and Hermione down to the room at the end of the hall. She opened the door and gestured for Malfoy to enter. "The healer will be here shortly." She said as she shut the door._

_Her words seemed to fall upon deaf ears, however, because Malfoy's attention was fully focused on his mother. His eyes watered and once the nurse was gone, his frail mask broke, and Hermione was able to see every emotion portrayed through his eyes; Sadness, hopelessness, vulnerability, love, tenderness, regret, realization, anger, pain. They flashed by so fast that Hermione almost didn't have time to recognize them._

_"Mom," he said, his voice breaking. He rushed to her side and fell beside her. Heavy sobs racked his body as he reached for her hand, almost as if a five year old would. Hermione instantly began to feel uncomfortable; she was intruding on something highly personal and she knew it.  
><em>

_Hermione turned her attention towards Narcissa. She did, Hermione had to admit, looked pretty bad. Her already tiny figure seemed too tiny, her face was pale and drawn. Her hair fell limply among her thin, bony face, no longer shining with radiance and beauty. _

_"Mister Malfoy," a new voice said. Hermione turned towards the man, who wore a white lab suit. He had glasses and a buzz cut. "I'm Dr. Kraus."_

_Malfoy didn't respond, but turned his head slightly towards the Healer._

_Dr. Kraus shifted, clearing his throat uncertainly. "As you know, your mother was hit with _Gloria Mortem,_ a curse that is intended to kill the victim slowly and painfully. It was a technique that was used in the 1800s, to torture Mudbloods and-"_

_ "I don't care what it was used for!" Malfoy shouted. Emotion so clearly leaked through in his voice, tears streaking his cheeks. He stood up and faced Dr. Kraus. "Just tell me there's a cure!"_

_"T-there is," Dr. Kraus said. Malfoy visibly relaxed. "But..."_

_"But?" Malfoy cried._

_"But," Dr. Kraus continued shakily, "I-it is extremely hard to f-find..."_

_"So find it!" Malfoy screamed. He towered over the little doctor, who began to tremble slightly. "I don't care what it takes, as long as you find it! You want more money? I'll pay you more money!" He dug out several gold coins and threw them to the ground. "You want more team members? I'll hire you new team members! You _will _find that cure, Dr. Kraus, even if it means risking your life. Hell, even if it means risking your entire team's life!" He grabbed the old healer's shirt, lifting him slightly off the ground. His eyes glinted dangerously and Hermione knew he was being every bit serious._

_"Y-yes, M-mister Malfoy." The healer said. Malfoy put him down, and Dr. Kraus scurried out of the room as if his life depended on escaping the enclosed room with the angry Malfoy inside. Which, Hermione mused, it kind of did. _

_Malfoy turned towards the ill Narcissa. "Mother," he said softly, his voice breaking. "I'll find you that cure. I promise. No matter what it takes..."_

_No matter what it takes..._

_The sentence, filled with more emotion than Hermione had ever heard come from the Malfoy heir, echoed itself and Hermione felt herself be pulled out of the memory._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That's it. Hehehehe, what an evil place to leave you at. :D **

**I made up "Gloria Mortem"; it's Latin for "slow death", for anyone who wants to know.**

**Hermione's memory was a bit uncharacteristic (since when did she care what other people thought about her?), but because you guys are the most amazing readers ever (you _did _choose to read this story... Hahaha just kidding), you'll look over that, right? ;)**

**Anyway, leave me a review! I'll have an update for y'all on Friday. (:  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hey everyone! :D Happy Friday! Oh my, has it been a busy week for me! Two exams, homework up to my ears, all that crap. I can honestly say that I haven't missed school a single bit. And I am completely jealous of all y'all who've graduated already... I still have five years. -.- And those five years are definitely taking their time...**

** GUESS WHAT? _And the Bookworm Fell in Love with the Ferret _(I seriously need to find a way to abbreviate that T.T) almost has 50 reviews! And in only the first 8 chapters! :D I am so happy right now, I never expected it to get so popular(: Thanks for the support everyone, y'all are the best(: **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p><em>So here we are...<br>We are alone.  
>There's weight on your mind,<br>And I wanna know.  
>~The Truth by Good Charlotte<em>

"How was it?" Saravia asked, clapping her hands together and smiling radiantly at the two rivals. "Did you learn something new?"

Draco glanced at Granger. Her face was pale -nearly the same shade as his own-, and her muddy colored eyes were fixed on the Slytherin with a mixture of fear and awe. He briefly wondered which memory she had seen; surely it wasn't a pleasant one, judging by the mudblood's face. He didn't quite think it would be, either. Fate seemed to have a sudden desire to settle an unknown score with the poor Malfoy heir, judging the recent course of events. A nervous feeling settling in his gut as he reviewed the endless possibilities. The secrets, the lies, the things she could have learned now... He suppressed a shudder.

"I'll leave you two to discuss the memory you saw," The young professor said, seemingly oblivious to Granger's shell-shocked state. "I trust you won't do anything too... Extreme while I'm gone?"

"No promises," Draco muttered darkly under his breath. If the bucked-tooth beaver he sat across from knew something about him, he'd _have _to do something. Perhaps a simple memory charm, like the one Lockhart used? He began to debate the possibilities.

"But don't think you can get away with anything," she continued, shooting Draco a withering glare. "At the first sign of aggression, that kind portrait over there won't hesitate to alert me."

Draco glanced at the portrait, and was surprised to find that it was the same plump man that resided above their common room fire place. The very same portrait who had gotten them in trouble with McGonagall and the reason why she started these bonding exercises to begin with. He glared at the portrait with every bit of hatred and anger that he could ever possibly muster. The portrait seemed not to notice. That only irritated Draco more.

"I'll be back in twenty minutes," Saravia said, giving the two students a bright smile before disappearing behind the door.

* * *

><p>Hermione watched Saravia walk out the door, a sinking feeling in her gut. <em>There goes my last chance of escape, <em>she thought hollowly. Now, she was utterly alone.

With Malfoy.

She felt like a deer caught in headlights, with Malfoy as the raging car, coming upon her with such force and anger that instantly ran over her, spilling her guts along the side of the road and to die slowly. _Ew, _she shuddered. Not a pleasant thought.

Slowly, almost fearfully, she risked a glance at his face. But, to her surprise, he didn't look the least bit upset or fearing, or even annoyed. His stone-like eyes were carefully blank and empty, his harshly pale features utterly expressionless. She thought of the Malfoy in the memory; so open and vulnerable, his eyes swimming in despair and pain, his expression crying out, "_Save me!" _He was nothing like the Malfoy that sat in front of her now.

"Granger," he said, his voice low so not to let the portrait hear him. It held a hint of a threatening tone to it. "Tell me what you saw."

"I-I... Y-you...," Hermione stuttered. How could she possibly explain that she saw Malfoy's mother slowly dying because of a horrendous curse placed upon her and how Hermione never realized that he loved his mother so much until that very moment? She couldn't. Not without angering him.

"_Tell me,_" Malfoy hissed, more forcefully this time. Hermione noticed how he clutched the ends of the table with such force, she fathomed why it hadn't snapped a corner off.

"Your mother...," Hermione began hoarsely, her voice no louder than a whisper.

"What about my mother?" he demanded, leaning closer towards the frightened Gryffindor.

"S-she was...," Hermione gulped. Why was her throat suddenly so dry? "I-in a..."

"Spit it out, Granger!" Malfoy didn't bother to lower his voice as he jumped to his feet.

"You two better had calm down," broke in the portrait above him. Hermione had completely forgotten he was there. "I don't want to have to alert your professor..."

Malfoy gave no sign of hearing him, but his voice dropped. "Listen here, Granger, I don't have time to play guessing games. You either _tell me where you saw my mother, _or I will force it out of you." He glanced at the man above him. "Portrait or not."

"S-she was...," Hermione cleared her throat. "I-in a h-hospital..."

For a moment, Malfoy looked confused. Then, upon realizing what Hermione had said, grew wide again. He leapt forward, his face inches from Hermione's, and growled, "If you tell _anyone_, Granger, a single soul..."

"I won't," Hermione said hastily.

"Back it off!" barked the portrait above them. Malfoy jumped away from Granger. "That is it. I'm telling Professor Saravia." And he disappeared.

"I'll make sure of that," Malfoy growled, glowering at Hermione.

Hermione gulped.

* * *

><p>Draco stalked back to his room, seething with rage. The corridor was empty; most everyone was at dinner. But Malfoy was far too angry to eat, let alone put up with Pansy or any annoying first years. No, he feared he might end up cursing someone. Not that they didn't deserve it anyway (it was their fault for being so bloody annoying), but he might get expelled. He certainly couldn't get expelled now.<p>

But being expelled was not his current worry. Right now, his reputation and a dangerous secret was at the hands of a mudblood. The mudblood who never ceased to find a way to anger him, who always seemed to find a way to cause yet another problem in the Slythin king's life. Merlin, why did she have to be so bloody nosy?

He slammed the portrait door shut behind him, ignoring the surprised and frightened squeak of the woman on it as he did so. He stalked towards the piano, his fingers instantly finding their keys and his feet habitably finding the petals. He played harshly, all his anger spilling out from him and into the keys.

He needed to make her forget what she saw. He just couldn't trust her.

But how?

He continued his song, lost deep in his thought.

The most obvious answer was to obliviate her. But when was the right time to do it?

And so, the Malfoy heir began to plot.

Little did he know, Granger had a ploy of her own, too.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry it's so short! Mainly a filler here, leaving you a little cliffy for next week. ;D Hahaha. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Oh, man. It's been two years since I've written a single word in this story. ****Erm. I sort of forgot every single plan I had for it. BUT, NO MATTER! I miss writing Dramione. When I started this story, I thought it was terrible. Going too fast, too slow, out of character... Something was always wrong. But, looking back, I'm actually quite satisfied with my work. Well, as satisfied as I can be with a 13-year-old girl's constant cliche-ing, grammar errors, and simple spelling mistakes... ^^" I'd go back and fix them, but I'm impossibly lazy. I probably will, come spring or summer break, when I'm _THAT _bored. Haha. I did manage to go back and change _one _thing, though: In chapter six, I changed the trust exercises to once a week, not daily. And I also made the scene slightly more Dramione.**

**I came back because I have a compelling urge to finish this story, especially since I know how much it sucks to get into a FanFiction, and realize it's incomplete. ****Hehe. Well, I hope my writing style hasn't changed too drastically for you guys. I really, really hope I can remember what plans I have lost. And I really, really, _really_ hope you enjoy the next few chapters, because it's been far too long since I've updated. :)**

**Slight Dramione moment, to speed things up? :D And a slightly long chapter, to make up for the years away...? xD**

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><p><em>I can say it but you won't believe me,<br>You say you do but you don't deceive me,  
>Dead hearts are everywhere,<br>Dead hearts are everywhere.  
>~Dead Hearts by Stars<em>

Hermione knew that skipping dinner wasn't the best idea. She knew that Ron, Harry, and Ginny were going to get worried; she hadn't told them about the trust exercises yet either, and that had taken up their whole free period. She desperately hoped that they would think she was on a Head Girl errand. And besides, skipping dinner was the only option she really had- she knew that the Slytherin heir would do anything in his power to make sure that Hermione knew her place. She didn't doubt that he already had some scheme to make her look like an idiot- a warning to her, to keep her mouth shut.

Hermione could easily take Malfoy; she had proved that a few years ago. If her Head Girl status didn't depend on it, she wouldn't hesitate to stand up against whatever he had planned. But it did, and she didn't have the time to spend in detention, or worse. Her plan needed to take action _now._

Okay, maybe that was a little over dramatic. But Hermione couldn't help herself; when she got excited for something, it just couldn't wait. And what better reason to get excited than to answering the riddle to the Malfoy heir's mysterious conflicting emotions?

Hermione wasn't sure why she felt so compelled to figure out Malfoy's life. It was intrusive, a violation of his privacy, and quite nosy of her. And what would she do with this information, once she figured it out? Try to _help _the boy who made her life a living hell? He'd made it clear that he wasn't happy with the fact that she was seeing into his memories; what would he do if he figured out that she was willingly_ trying_ to figure out his secrets?

It was the rush of falling short to these unanswered questions that really drove Hermione. For as long as she could remember, the studious Gryffindor had found relief in a mystery. And now that Voldemort had been defeated, Hermione had supposed that it was time to move on to yet another mind-baffling mystery. So, here she was, trying to piece together the emotions of a dark prince, the brat who had made her life a living hell, and her best friend's enemy.

Hermione rushed into the headmaster's office, her heart racing as swiftly as her zealous mind. "Professor McGon-" she stopped. The headmaster's chair was empty, the fireplace in the corner crackled in its lonesome. Hermione's groaned and cursed herself silently. "Of _course _the headmistress would be at dinner," she cried, her spirits sinking. "How could I be so stupid?"

"I've known you to be many things, Miss Granger," spoke a heart-wrenchingly familiar voice. "Stupid is not one of them, my dear."

Hermione looked up at the smiling portrait, close to tears. "Dumbledore!" she cried. "Thank Merlin you're here!" She paused for a moment. "How did you know to come? Professor McGonagall said you'd be busy for awhile."_  
><em>

Dumbledore winked. "I had a sudden craving for my favorite comfort food." The old man sighed forlornly as he glanced at the bowl of lemon drops on the desk in front of him. "Unfortunately, I cannot do so much more than stare at the delicacies. I don't suppose you fancy art, Miss Ganger? I wouldn't be opposed to having some lemon drops painted in."

Hermione smiled and shook her head. "I'm afraid that I'm not the best artist, sir."

"Ah, well, that's quite alright," he waved the topic away. "You will find what you need here in the back." He continued, motioning to a corner in the office, towards a door that Hermione had never noticed before. _Odd, _Hermione frowned. She was usually quite observant. She moved to the door and opened it slowly to find a toilet, not unlike the ones that had transported the golden trio to the Ministry of Magic awhile ago. In tiny writing, the words _St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries _was inscribed on the porcelain. Hermione supposed that it was practical for the headmaster to have immediate transportation to the hospital, for the students who had injured family members.

"Dumbledore, sir," Hermione hesitated, "is this...okay? Surely I'll get in trouble for leaving the school!"

"Not to worry, Miss Granger." Dumbledore said warmly. "I will speak to Minerva. You're free to leave."

"How did you know?" Hermione asked softly. She looked up at the portrait, awe and delicate gratitude alining her gentle features. A smile twitched in the corner of Dumbledore's lips as he gazed down at the Gryffindor girl fondly.

"You're not as lonely as you think you are, Miss Granger," he answered cryptically. "Always know this: the plans that I have made for you are etched with all the care and thought that I can muster. Your friends may be at peace, but your battle isn't over yet. You may feel lost, and perhaps a little abandoned along the way. But you will always have me." Dumbledore glanced down, looking suddenly pained. "...And comfort food. Which reminds me -do forgive me, dear, I'm afraid my manners have been failing me lately-, would you care for a lemondrop before you leave?"

Hermione laughed. "Thank you, Professor." She said, putting every bit of meaning in those three softly spoken words.

"Don't thank me," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Thank the inventor of lemondrops. Good luck to you, Miss Granger."

And with that, Hermione left for her journey.

* * *

><p>In all honesty, Hermione probably should've planned ahead.<p>

As she entered the hospital, Hermione realized that Narcissa's location was a secret to all except Draco. And now, Hermione. She could see why Malfoy was so intent on keeping Hermione's mouth shut; how many people would come after the Malfoy riches if they knew what condition Narcissa was in? Draco wasn't legally an adult, and his father was under strict watch of the Ministry. It occurred to Hermione that the Malfoy's money was probably not being accounted for as it should be. With a well-worded lawyer, their entire bloodline's worth could be ripped right out from under their noses. And whoever had cursed Narcissa, well, they wouldn't be happy if they knew that she still had a chance at survival.

Obviously, it would raise question to have any other visitor aside from Draco.

Hermione did something that Harry and Ron would be proud of. She decided to -_don't say it- _break the rules, and sneak in.

It wasn't quite as hard as Hermione initially thought it would be- all she had to do was cast a disillusionment charm over herself, and sneak down the hallway. She remembered the way well enough. The door wasn't locked, nor was there any charms or curses over it, which surprised Hermione. She would think that Malfoy would at least put a simple protection spell over Narcissa's room, especially since he went through so much to keep her location a secret.

As Hermione slipped into the room, she realized that Narcissa was much worse than she had been in Malfoy's memory. Her skin was the color of a corpse, her breathing ragged and shallow. Her hair hung in a loose, greasy braid on her shoulder. Yet even though her condition was poor, Hermione couldn't help but notice the way her features were set in a firm, determined line- as if she was declaring that she would fight for survival if it meant saving her family's pride...even if the chances were slim. Hermione felt a twinge of respect for the woman right then._  
><em>

She moved forward, inspecting Narcissa's frail figure. Hermione, of course, happened to be familiar of the curse. _Gloria Mortem _was not a curse that was often spoken of, and for good reasons. The curse was more powerful, more _inhumane _than _Avada Kedavra. _She had stumbled upon a brief, carefully vague paragraph of the curse whilst digging in the most forbidden section of the library- she had initially been searching for information on horcruxes, but the idea of _Gloria Mortem_ had caught her eye. Was this curse strong enough to kill a horcrux?

Hermione shut her eyes, willing herself to bring up what information she was able to find back then. If she recalled correctly, the area that the curse impacted would determine wether or not to curse was curable. Hermione had no trouble finding the said area; a large, horrendously black splotch appeared grotesquely on her right shoulder, spreading like cracks down her arm. It looked bad, and from the looks of it, Narcissa had less than a year of life left.

Hermione signed. "Oh, Mrs. Malfoy..." She said, her voice tender and awkward. Part of her knew that talking to the woman was pointless. But it eased her guilty conscious, if only slightly. "I suppose this is why your son is going through such a rough time, huh?" She settled herself on the chair beside the older, taller woman who looked like she weighed less than Hermione herself.

_So breakable._

"I've never seen him so angry in my life, and that's saying something... Erm, no offense." She glanced at the irresponsive body and cleared her throat. "I can't imagine what you had to do to be cursed like this. It's worse than the Unforgivable Curses." She shuddered. "It'd be cruel to say that after what you'd been through, you deserved this. Because, well, nobody deserves this. It's inhumane, and cruel, and it deserves a lifetime in Azkaban!"

Hermione didn't know why she kept talking, but she did. Maybe it was because she knew what it's like, to lose your parents. Maybe she felt a little lonely. Maybe she felt guilty for what she was about to do to the woman.

But she kept talking.

"Your son doesn't deserve this either," she admitted quietly. "Even though he's not exactly the kindest Slytherin ever... I would know. I think he likes to go out of his way to make my life a personal hell, to be quite frank with you, Mrs. Malfoy. But can I share a secret? Something that I tend to forget when I'm around him? He's got emotions, too. Which shouldn't surprise me, but it does. I didn't even realize it until this week, you know; his mask of anger is quite convincing. I think he's even fooled himself into thinking that all he can ever feel is rage. But wether or not he realizes this, his emotions are a lot stronger than we all think, because he likes to keep them bottled bottled up. That only makes them ten times harder to feel.

"Losing your family hurts, Mrs. Malfoy, and I think that when he loses you, he's going to break."

Hermione had no idea where those words had come from, but as she said them, she knew it was true. She had caught a glimpse of Draco that she never would have thought existed, and a side that she could_ relate_ to. He was losing his only family. A family that Draco Malfoy, the coldhearted Slytherin prince, actually _cared _about. She _knew _it affected him.

From that moment on, she vowed that she would unravel the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. She would do whatever it would take, break whatever rule.

So she gulped, and placed her wand to Narcissa Malfoy's forehead.

"What are you _doing_?" Someone behind her cried.

Hermione turned around to meet the eyes of an enraged Draco Malfoy.

* * *

><p>Draco thought that Granger was officially stupid, absolutely retarded. Of <em>course<em> he set a charm over his mother's hospital room. Just one that couldn't easily be detected- one that would immediately alert him if someone other than Dr. Kraus's team entered the room.

Earlier in the year, Dr. Kraus had shakily questioned Draco's choice in charms- perhaps a O_ppungo _curse instead, or at least something a little violent? But Draco stood firmly in his choice of defense. He wanted to be sure that any pain inflicted on the curse-bearer was directly from Draco himself. He wanted to see the pain in his eyes, to make him feel exactly what Draco felt when he watched his mother's heartbeat steadily grow fainter. He wanted the man to feel a pain worse than dying, like Draco himself had felt while watching his mother slowly become a corpse, without actually dying.

It would almost be easier if she had just died on impact of the curse. But he couldn't afford to think like that; his mother was everything he had.

Draco hadn't felt the alert at first- he was pounding away at his piano with incredible force, playing an angst filled song that almost hurt to listen to as he continued to plot in his mind. The pull on his gut went unnoticed at first, but it grew with increasing urgency. Eventually, it caught the attention of the plotting Slytherin, and his fingers and mind ceased suddenly. The abrupt, drastic silence surprised the portraits along the walls, causing them to glance curiously at the odd blonde boy.

He blinked, momentarily confused and irritated. But his mercury eyes suddenly grew wide with understanding, and he leapt from the piano bench to rush down the hallways faster than he had ever ran before. He arrived at St. Mungo's faster on record time, his mind set to kill.

When he crept into the pathetic, lonely hospital room, he had prepared himself for a lot of things. But he certainly hadn't prepared himself to see his least favorite mudblood pouring her heart out to his mother.

The idea itself made Draco shudder with absolute disgust... so to _see _it? Draco immediately wanted to interrupt, to get that awful, frizzy-haired little freakshow as far away from his frail mother as possible. He was seething was rage, physically shaking. How _dare _she! She hadn't known his secret for more than, what, twenty minutes? And here she was, talking to his _mother _like they were lifelong friends. Dear Merlin, no wonder the trio had managed to discover the secrets of Voldemort's horcruxes; the mudblood was _impossibly _nosy! He opened his mouth, prepared to shower Granger with every colorful word in his vocabulary.

The only thing that stopped the angered Slytherin was to hear his own name.

"...His mask of anger is quite convincing. I think he's even fooled himself into thinking that all he can ever feel is rage. But wether or not he realizes this, his emotions are a lot stronger than we all think, because he likes to keep them bottled bottled up. That only makes them ten times harder to feel." The mudblood's voice was thoughtful and weak, but the impact it had on Draco's anger was quite the opposite. His fists clenched. She had no right to assume-

_Maybe she's right._

No. Of course she's not right, idiot. A mudblood is never right. What does she know about his life, anyway?

_She** going** to know a lot more with the trust exercises. _

Draco's inner argument was cut short when the mudblood raised her trembling wand to his mother's paper colored forehead. She wasn't going to _kill _his mother, that weak, rule-following _Gryffindor_?

Draco didn't wait to find out.

"What are you _doing_?" He cried.

Granger turned, clearly startled, and Draco wasted no time in disarming her. Nearly snarling, he pinned her to the wall as she began to tremble slightly. He preferred physical threats over magical; it was more personal this way, more meaningful. With disgust, Draco supposed that only made him more like his father. "You... My mother..." Draco's mind was an incoherent whirlwind of anger, entangling his words.

"It's not what it looks like!" Granger cried, her eyes growing wide with realization.

"Well, you sure do have some explaining to do, because it bloody hell looked pretty bad, mudblood!" Draco spat.

"I was... Going... T-to..." Granger looked down, stuttering. "Look in her mind. Memories... See who did this to her..."

Draco couldn't handle it. Whether it was being so close to a dirty-blooded lowlife, or the whirlwind in his mind had hit a fragile nerve, something inside of Draco snapped. He pushed himself off of the wall and sat on his mother's bedside, drained of emotion just as his mother was drained of life. He couldn't see Granger's face from this angle, which offered him some sort of emotional release. Living with her was more than a tiresome feat, it was Draco's complete and personal hell.

He wished she had said that she was going to kill her. It would be a lot less bothersome than her stuffing her oversized nose in Draco's mother's personal life.

"And why... would you need... to do that?" Draco hissed, his anger sharpening his worn voice.

"Because," Granger said matter-of-factly, apparently braver now that Draco was a safe distance away. Her voice was firm with determination, but Draco could detect the minuscule tremors of fear beneath it. "I'm going to help you."

"Help me?" Draco snapped stiffly. "Help me with what?"

He could feel her eyes bore into his back. "I'm going to help you find a cure."

* * *

><p><strong>I planned on stopping after Draco was all like, "no way, she's gonna kill her?", but I figured that was just cruel. Well, this is kinda cruel too... But still. Plus, I mean, Hermione Granger. Kill someone. Yeah, right.<strong>

**I realize that I kind of overdid Draco's anger in the last few chapters, but I guess I just didn't want him to be too tame, like so many other FanFictions tend to make him appear as. I'll go back and fix what I can, eventually... **

**I reaaaalllyyyy hope you guys like this chapter. Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I'm SO SO SOOO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS STORY! D: Gaaahhh. And it will definitely start to move along a lot more swiftly in the upcoming chapters, I promise. ^^**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So, I wasn't planning on posting a chapter today... My Percy Jackson FanFic is being neglected and needs my attention! T.T I'm also extremely exhausted, like so exhausted that I became mood-swingy and delirious. My flute teacher literally stopped our lessons within the first twenty minutes because of it and seriously thought I was high. And I keep leaving out letters and words ( andsometimes whole sentences!) while writing. But alas! My mind has too many brainstorms going on, too many stories to write, and too many sketches to draw to allow sleep, so excuse me while I make myself more coffee to finish this story with. I thought about this specific FanFic aaalll day, and I found a new band that reminded me of Draco, inspiring me to write more tonight. **

**On another note... I know I say, "ooh, Dramione moment coming up!" a lot, and it never really turns out to be a _real_ Dramione moment, but within the next few chapters, I promise there will be some bonding between them. I mean, they obviously don't love each other yet, and they wouldn't even consider a relationship, because that would be unrealistic. I admit that eventually, I'll end up bending to the rules of realism (?) and speed up the Dramione-ness as to not bore you guys (or me). Expect some cute bonding though. :3**

* * *

><p><em>They left us for dead,<em>  
><em>Forgot what we said, <em>  
><em>From the start, we knew we were broken,<em>  
><em>This life is a glitch, something we should fix,<em>  
><em>From the start, we were ghosts in the machine.<br>~Ghosts in the Machine by Ghost Town_

Several seconds passed. Hermione waited, her eyes boring into Malfoy's tensed back.

"No," he finally said. "No way am I accepting help from a-"

"-Mudblood," Hermione finished, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I get it, Mr. High-and-Mighty-Pureblood. You've made it clear that you're far too prideful to accept help from a lowlife like myself. But think about it, Malfoy. What choice do you have? You _know _that your mother doesn't have much time until the curse becomes irreversible. I know where to find information about the curse. I can help."

"That's what the experts and doctors that I hire say, too," he snorted. "How are you any different from them? And why would _you _want to help _me_?"

_Because I lost my parents too. Because I know what it's like to have nobody to run to anymore. _"Because," Hermione cleared her throat. Stupid cold or something, clogging her lungs and making her voice catch like that. "The war's been hard on everyone. I figure we're all tired of seeing each other suffer... Even if the sufferer is a traitor and a ferret. Besides, I know what it's like to lose family. And I'm good at solving problems. You need all the help you can get with this, Malfoy, so why don't you accept mine?"

Hermione expected him to get angry, to kick her out of the hospital room, to sneer in her face. Why would he _ever_ accept her help, anyway? Placing his mother's life in the hands of his enemy? The Slytherin boy finally stood up and turned to her, a cautiously skeptical look on his face. Hermione was reminded suddenly of a similar situation 7 years ago, offering her help to a scar-faced, dark-haired, glasses-rimmed boy who bore a similar expression as the one Malfoy now wore. A boy who wasn't quite fond of Hermione Granger. A boy who grew up to become her best friend.

Malfoy seemed hesitant. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at Hermione, then at his mother's unconscious figure.

There it was again. That look in his eyes.

"Tell anyone what you're doing for me," he growled, his voice laced with poorly hidden desperation and strain, "and you're dead. Got it?"

"Got it," Hermione replied solemnly, a small smile of triumph on her face.

"I want to see your progress every once in awhile," Malfoy demanded, "and where you're getting your information."

"Well then," she said, excitement clouding her mind and clogging her ears, misinterpreting his words, "let's go find out what we can about this curse, shall we?"

And with that, the bookworm grabbed the mysterious Slytherin boy's arm and set off to the school once more.

* * *

><p>By the time the two had returned to Hogwarts, it was a lot later than Draco had realized. Granger checked her watch and sighed. "Time for me to patrol. I suppose you could meet me in the forbidden section of the library-"<p>

Draco shook his head and stepped back. "I know I'm irresistible, Granger, but _really_-"

Hermione glowered at him. "To _research _about the curse, you stuck up git!"

"Who said we were researching about this _togethe_r?" Draco exclaimed, mortified. "Don't you think I've already tried to find what I can over the summer? There's absolutely nothing, Granger, not even my most qualified researchers have been able to find anything. To think that a school's library would possess more knowledge than a highly expensive, well-trained team..."

"Well, have you _tried _the library yet?" Granger asked, crossing her arms and resting on one hip. She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. "We'll accomplish more working together than we ever will alone, you and I both know that. Time is precious, and we need all the information we can get our hands on."

Draco didn't like the way she said _'we'_. The mudblood was actually proposing that they worked _together._

But she had a point. Narcissa didn't have much time left, and despite how confident he had acted in his team, the only thing they had really managed to accomplish was a major dent in the family funds.

"Hurry with your patrol, then," he snapped. "I'll meet you in the library."

He turned and briskly began to his journey down the quiet hallway. It was 8:00; not nearly curfew time, yet most students spent these hours hopping between common rooms: the few that still lingered in the hallways were couples in need of a dark, secluded room for their unfinished business. Draco smirked to himself- he would know _all_ about that.

Draco's mind rolled back to the problem at hand- Accepting help from his worst enemy's best friend was a record low for the Malfoy heir, and that worried him more than anything. Worse than portraying emotions, accepting help from a Gryffindor exposed his desperation and pitiful weakness. His father would be absolutely horrified if he ever discovered; with dread, Draco realized that the news would most result in a horrendously bloody beating beyond any he had received before. But, then again, if his father knew that Narcissa was being safely harbored in St. Mungo's, his reaction wouldn't be quite so pleasant to begin with.

Yes, accepting Hermione Granger's assistance was a dangerous card for Draco to play. It was trusting-the-Order kind of dangerous, betraying-the-Dark-Lord kind of dangerous. It was stepping a little too far out of his comfort zone; far enough so that he could no longer see where the edge would give away and allow Draco plummet to his death.

But it was worth it, to see his mother's eyes open once again.

Once his mother would be cured, Draco's life would finally settle into a much-deserved peace. He could take his mother and leave, his name less recognizable with every mile he put between himself and Hogwarts and the Ministry. Every mile leading closer to a new start. That thought alone would give him the strength to put up with the Golden Trio Girl.

Draco slipped inside the abandoned library, shutting himself in the forbidden section. Quickly and efficiently, he set a number of charms to both soundproof the section and warn him of approaching professors. He shuffled through the yellowing books, pausing only to throw a few onto the single nearby study table. Finally, Granger returned, and after chastening him on the harmful affects of violently tossing old, delicate, and rare pieces of literature (to which Draco rudely commented on her nerdiness), they set to work quietly.

The minute hand on the library clock crept on, painfully and gradually overlapping the hour hand: the only thing in the room that actually made progress of any sort. One hour passed, then another, and another, and neither the Gryffindor or the Slytherin had even found a mention of _Gloria Mortem._ Hardly a word was exchanged in the process, besides an occasional complaint of Granger's desk-hogging, but for the most part, both were too immersed in their studies to acknowledge the other's presence. It was a rare sight indeed, to see the long-time enemies working on near-friendly terms. They were dedicated and heavily set on their task, and would have raptly kept on their intense search for Merlin knows how long, if not for the grumbling that came from Granger's stomach.

For the first few times, Draco ignored it, too focused on the umpteenth book he had just picked from the stack. But Granger's stomach refused to be ignored, wearing at Draco's already thin patience. "Would you bloody _quit _it with that noise!" He snapped the hardcover shut, nearly ripping the fragile yellow pages and making the Gryffindor jump. "Don't damage it!" she cried in annoyance, snatching the book and glaring at Draco. "Stop with that sound," Draco repeated, agitated. Granger looked bewildered and mildly annoyed at the comment, but before she could ask, her stomach replied for her. She jumped a little, then quickly reddened. "I was concentrating so hard on the curse, I didn't realize I was hungry...," she said, more to herself than Draco. "I forgot that I skipped dinner, and it's already past curfew."

Draco was thoroughly annoyed and hungry himself- he hadn't slept the night before and was still experiencing a bit of a hangover, and he skipped dinner as well. He was far too exhausted to put up an argument, let alone deal with Granger's inconsiderately loud stomach. "You owe me big time, Granger," he grumbled. Before she could question him, he snapped his fingers. The feeble Twinky appeared before him. "Yes, Master Draco?" she asked.

At least she hadn't called him Malfoy. "Twinky, fetch me two plates of red pesto from the restaurant on the corner of Diagon Alley. And a cup of earl gray tea. Make it fast."

"Yes, Master Draco," Twinky squeaked, bowing before vanishing again. Draco didn't bother to glance up at the mudblood whom he was treating to a meal, he only sighed and grumbled, "Shut your mouth, Granger. You look like an idiot."

She cleared her throat and blushed. "I, um, didn't peg you as a tea drinker, Malfoy." She said, obviously trying to make up for her embarrassment.

He gave her a skeptical look. "In case you didn't notice, Granger, this London."

"Right," she mumbled. She began to clear away the stack that had grown on the table, obviously unhappy about the idea of eating near her precious, faded, outdated books.

Twinky reappeared with the two steaming plates and a mug, and set them before the witch and the wizard. "Is there anything else Twinky may be able to do for Master Draco?" she asked. Draco waved her away again.

"Pesto," the Gryffindor said, twirling the pasta on her fork. "You like Italian."

Draco swallowed his mouthful. "Why the sudden interest, Granger?" he flashed a smirk that he knew never failed to annoy her. "Finally couldn't resist my impeccable good looks?"

Granger snorted rather unattractively. "Please, ferret. Only an idiot would fall for you." She took a bite of her own pasta.

"That explains why half of the female population kiss the ground I walk on," Draco replied.

"Yes, actually, it does." Granger glowered at her plate. "Like I said, idiots. And I imagine they kiss far more than the ground. For their sakes, I hope they haven't caught any diseases you surely have from the amount of tramps you find on the side of the road."

One hour of hardcore bickering later, Draco waved his wand and sent the empty plates and mug back to the restaurant from which they came. Draco stacked the books back upon their respective shelves, whilst Granger wrote down the titles of the books in which they had already thoroughly scavenged through, as a reminder not go through it again. By the time he had stacked them all, it was a mere 12:15 am.

"You see, Granger, I told you the library wouldn't..." It was then he was surprised to find that he had wasted his breath, for the stupid mudblood had fallen asleep where she sat.

"Granger." He shook her, but she was unresponsive. _"Granger." _He shook her roughly. The bloody Gryffindor slept like a rock.

That left only one option...

No way. No _bloody _way was he going to carry her.

But what choice did he have? She wouldn't wake up. If the librarian found her here in the morning, she was sure to tell the headmistress everything: his mother, the curse, his working with a mudblood... He couldn't risk that.

He was going to _carry _the mudblood, the girl in the Golden Trio, his enemy, to her bed.

"You better be right about being able to find that fucking cure, Granger," he grumbled, glaring helplessly at her. Sighing and shaking his head, he lifted her from her chair. Compared to Draco, she was rather short and very light, so he found it easier to carry her bride-style, with her legs dangling from his arms. He made the journey down the hallways as quickly as possible, every passing second increasing his chances of being seen... or Granger awakening. Finally, he stumbled into their own common room, and awkwardly carried her to her room, setting her on the plush bed.

He rushed to the door, praying karma won't turn on him yet again and allowing her to wake. As he turned the knob to leave, he glanced back at her tiny, unconscious body.

His enemy.

A Gryffindor.

Someone who wanted to help him find his mother's cure.

"Impossibly confusing mudbloods," he murmured, before slipping away.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello, my lovely readers who never fail to brighten my day with your smile-inducing reviews and never hesitate to forgive me for disappearing from FanFiction from time to time... :D So yeah, that's basically my way of saying I'm sorry it's been awhile. I've been innsaaanneeellyyy busy with my new schedule. I have math this semester. ): And in between that, tutoring (I'm in honors math so it's necessary), flute lessons (CRAAAPPP I FORGOT TO PRACTICE D: ), horseback riding,art homework (A LOT MORE THAN YOU THINK), workouts, eating a lot (is that contradictory?) , and friends, I don't have much time at all.**

**I'd like to mention that Valentine's day is in like 3 weeks, and that's probably another reason why I came back DX When I think of romance, my thoughts immediately turn to this Dramione. Is that sad? I'm ooohhh sooo verrrryyyyy loneeellyyyy, just recently as well DX Aaahh whatever. It'll be another several years before I ever become notsolazy with romance and date again. Dat's my life, and y'all probably just want to read the Dramione, so... I'll shut up now. :D**

**Erm, I'd also like to mention that this chapter sucks and I hate it. Kbai.**

* * *

><p><em>I used to be a singer in a rock 'n' roll band<br>He would write the songs and I would tremble at his hands  
>B<em>_ut oh, la laa,  
><em>_He lost poetic ethic and his songs were pathetic,  
>And he's a failure now.<br>__~Failure by Laura Marling_

When Hermione woke up, she almost believed that the night before was a dream. The prideful Slytherin boy had actually _accepted _Hermione's help! She was almost certain he wouldn't. Of course, either way, she would've interfered. This just made her job ten times easier. Her lips twitched into an anticipating grin- she was beginning to find the problem with the Malfoy heir, which meant she was one step closer to the solution. She viewed her much-beloved riddles as she did an algebraic equation: set up a logically constructed equation first, solve for X. That's how she helped Harry through the years they had worked together to defeat Voldemort. That's how she would help Malfoy with his mother... And maybe, along the way, she would get another glimpse at the astrological look that she had managed to catch in the fleeting moments Malfoy's guard would fall. The mere fact that he could feel something other than hatred made her more curious than she aught to be. This boy was a definite mystery.

She tossed aside her blanket and sank her feet to the ground, making her way to the bathroom, her mind brimming- Wait. When did she go to sleep last night? She frowned. The last thing she remembered was pesto with Malfoy... Did she fall asleep at the library? _No way_, her mind tittered, _that would mean that he would had to have carried you back, and Malfoy wouldn't... _Or, would he? _No, no, I'm certain... _But why couldn't she remember, then, crawling underneath her blankets?

Oh. Oh, Merlin. He carried her, _asleep, _to her room, and put her to bed like a toddler. With her mouth probably swinging open, and her hair strewn everywhere. If that didn't give him superiority, she didn't know what did. How _embarrassing!_

But, why would he do that, anyway? Why not just... leave her?

_Does the boy who won't look at a muggle-born without sneering, have the heart to carry a slumber-heavy one to her bed?_

She heard the portrait to their common room open and a heavy sigh that was unmistakably Malfoy's, probably retuning from his patrol. Opening her door just enough for her to squeeze through, she tip-toed down the stairwell and peaked around the corner at him. Immediately she knew he hadn't slept much, if at all. Black half-moons clung to his worn silver eyes, looking striking against his pale skin. His hair stuck up in various places and directions, resembling the infamous Potter Hair. He collapsed on the couch and stared out the window forlornly. The sunrise light oozed on his tired face, golden hues oozing into his emotion-raught moon-colored eyes. He seemed almost vulnerable now.

Quietly, Hermione closed the door and turned to her shower.

Quickly, she was learning that her expectations of him weren't nearly as accurate as they used to be. This, this was a different Malfoy. Surprises around every corner. Oh, what an interesting turn of events.

* * *

><p>When Hermione arrived to breakfast, she had forgotten the fact that she had abandoned her best friends the other day. She was quickly reminded, however, when she was ambushed by Ginny.<p>

"Where _were _you yesterday?!" The Weasley girl cried before Hermione even sat down. "I looked for you _everywhere!_ I even went to your common room after dinner, and you weren't there! We were so worried!"

"Morning, 'Mione," Harry greeted, apparently obvious to his girlfriend's outrage. Ron waved, several forkfuls of pancake stuffed into his mouth preventing him from speaking. They seemed very worried, indeed.

"I'm fine, Ginny," Hermione reassured. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys. I have to do these bonding exercises with Draco..."

"Bonding exercises?" Ron suddenly became more alert. "With the_ ferret_?"

"What kind of _bonding_?" Harry asked, disgust filling his voice.

"Every Monday," Hermione sighed. "It's stupid, really. We have to share a random memory with each other in a pensive."

"That's _horrible_!" Ron cried in outrage. "What if he sees something important? Something about Dumbledore, or Snape, or Voldemort? He could tell the entire school our secrets, Hermione!"

"Ron, we don't have any secrets to hide that concern Voldemort anymore," Hermione murmured forlornly.

"No, Ron has a point," Harry argued earnestly. "What if he finds out about your parents? He won't let you live that down, Hermione, and you know it."

Hermione shook her head. "If he found out, I think I could deal with it. It's just one more year of school, Harry, there's really not that much that he could do to affect me. And, to be honest..." she hesitated, "I don't think he would do that."

Whatever they were about to say, they had apparently forgotten. They simply stared at her instead.

"'Mione, I think you've really lost it," Ginny said gingerly.

"Why _wouldn't _he?" Harry agreed with Ginny.

"Because... I have something I could use against him, too." Hermione formed her words carefully.

"What is it?" Ron said, leaning forward excitedly. "Tell us everything about the dirty ferret!"

"Well, if I told you, I wouldn't have a secret to use against him, now, would I? What would be worse than the infamous Potter knowing his secrets?"

Before they could argue any further, Hermione gulped down the last bit of her orange juice, smiled at her three friends, and dismissed herself from the dining hall.

* * *

><p>"Draco," Blaise elbowed the blonde.<p>

"What?" Draco snapped immediately.

"Chill," Blaise rolled his eyes. "Potions ended 2 minutes ago; you completely zoned out. You're welcome."

Draco looked around and realized that Blaise was right; most all the students were either gathering their schoolwork or were filing out of the classroom. He, too, began to gather his own homework.

"What's up with you?" Blaise asked casually, glancing at Draco as he gathered his things.

"The noisy little mudblood makes it hard to sleep," Draco growled.

It wasn't entirely a lie. Thinking about Granger and her sudden interest in his life _had _kept Draco up most of the night. Why did she _really _want to help him? It couldn't have been from the 'goodness in her heart'. Was Potter looking to dig up dirt on him- to ruin his life for all that he had done to the scarhead and his two little annoying followers? There was little he could do about it, though; she was willing to give him information in the process, and at this point, he was desperate for that. And his father had always taught him to keep his enemies close to heart.

"I imagine she is a bit noisy in the bedroom, eh?" Blaise winked teasingly. "She looks like that type. Quiet and reserved in public, but a bloody riot when you get her naked..."

"I am _not _fucking Granger!" Draco seethed, knocking over the chuckling dark-haired boy.

"Easy, mate," Blaise laughed. "That just means more for me." He smirked.

"Sleeping with a dirty-blooded, try-hard, frizzy-haired freak?" Draco said, regaining his cool. "That seems a little low, Zabini. Even for you."

"I like to get around." As if to prove his point, Blaise winked at a pair of fawning first-years in the corner of the classroom. They giggled and rushed off.

Draco couldn't deny that of Blaise, and neither could most of the girls in Hogwarts. Even the most disgusting and anti-social Hufflepuffs didn't fall short, whom Blaise attested were the best in bed. _They're the kind of chicks who look up Sex 101 online and learn **all **the moves, _he had insisted with a smirk. _It's creepy, but it turns me on.__  
><em>

"Our first Hogsmeade trip is next weekend," Blaise continued as the two of them left the classroom. "You in for The Hog's Head with Theodore and me?"

"As always," Draco agreed.

The Hog's Head had been a tradition of theirs since their second year. Blaise somehow had connections with the bar owner; all they had to do was mention the man's name and a drink was brought to them with no charge. He was obviously feared by his workers, which did not surprise Draco in the least, being the shady place that it was. Draco often wondered how Blaise knew the owner, but the first thing you learn as a Slytherin is to never, ever question a man's connections. Too often, asking will get you elbow-deep in an illegal business you wanted no part in. Or you will be regarded with suspicion, as a spy who seeks only information.

And besides, everyone in Slytherin has their own dirty business to attend to. You learn not to care early on: you have your own connections to worry about. Why bother with someone else's?

The bar, to the three Slytherins, was their outlet. They never once mentioned this to each other, of course, because a Slytherin also grows up to learn that emotion is weakness. But they all knew it; it had been that way since the very beginning. They drank away the memories of Voldemort's return and their own Death Eater trainings. They drank their way through beatings and Potter-headlined newspapers, through looks of fear or hatred that was often thrown their way. Whilst Harry had his own little Dumbledore's Army at The Three Broomsticks, Draco had his own little group at The Hog's Head. A group that liked to drink until they had forgotten the fact that they were forced onto a side of the war that they didn't care to be on, but were expected to be on by both the good and the evil.

The two boys reached the part of the hallway where they would separate to go to their own common rooms. "You coming to the Slytherin commons?" Blaise asked.

"Can't today," Draco said.

"Head duty stuff?" Blaise asked. "We could always tag along. Take points from other houses just for the hell of it. The first years are the best, I'm telling you, they get so scared..."

"Can't," Draco repeated. "I have some other business to attend to."

In Slytherin, that simply meant: _I have some connections I need to focus on and dirty business to finish. So unless you want to throw yourself in it, I suggest you leave._

Blaise nodded quietly, his mouth setting into a firm line. "Alright then, mate." He took on a more serious tone. "I'll see you around."

Once Blaise had left, Draco let his shoulders fall. He stepped into his common room and sat at the piano.

He lost himself in a bittersweet song that reminded him of home.

* * *

><p>Hermione was anxious to get her rounds done. She was excited to research the curse further, and, hopefully, retain her pride by <em>not <em>falling asleep. Her cheeks still burned at the thought of that. Did she drool while he carried her? Snore? Something, anything embarrassing that he could have used against her. Just the fact that he had to carry her was enough, she supposed. But that would be more embarrassing for him than it would be for her.

She shook her head and strode to the library, her fingers itching to set to work. As she had assumed, Malfoy had already carefully charmed the forbidden section and was seated in their table, already starting on his first book. She slid in across from him and grabbed a book of her own. He raised his gaze to her momentarily before returning to his studies- it was the only acknowledgment she expected to receive. Or, at least, the only acknowledgment that was not meant as an insult.

"Erm, thanks for last night," she said uncertainly.

He glanced up at her again, disinterested. "You snore, Granger," he answered gruffly before retuning his attention to his work.

There it was.

Hermione bit back her irritation and set to work, her quill ready at her hand. She leafed through her first book with no results. And another. It already appeared as if their results would be the same as yesterday's. Hermione let out a small sigh. It was only their second day, yet with what little she had gathered beforehand, the task seemed very unlikely to complete. At least with the horcruxes, she had a background to work with. Something to begin with. This, this was a blind search. The familiar feeling of frustration set in.

A common misconception about Hermione was that she was very patient when it came to research. That was certainly not the case. Sure, she was a hard worker, but that was due to determination rather than patience. Hermione's secret was to calm her frustration with a song. Her parents's song, to be specific.

So, momentarily forgetting Malfoy's presence, she began to hum.

As her frustration wore on through the next 15 minutes, she grew louder, until she was singing beneath her breath to silence the negative thoughts that now set in the back of her mind.

"You sing?"

Hermione squeaked, nearly falling out of her chair. She looked up to find Malfoy's eyes on her own, a cautiously disinterested expression on his face.

"Um, what?" She asked, clearing her throat.

"You sing."

"I... I suppose," Hermione answered, regaining her breath. "It helps me study."

Malfoy regarded her again. Hermione desperately wished to know what he was thinking, for his face portrayed nothing.

"Why do you ask...?" She finally continued.

"No reason," he growled.

Hermione bit her lip. Now, it was her turn to regard him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," she smiled, shaking her head. "You just seem suddenly interested in my personal life, Malfoy. Couldn't resist?"

Malfoy simply glowered at her.

Hermione grinned and began to sing softly again. He didn't protest.

They began to work again, Hermione's soft voice the only sound to fill the void of silence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for that drop-off ending and this sucky filler-chapter. It will speed up. I have plans :DDD**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: So, no school for me today. It's our first 'snow day', though it's the icy roads that really got us called off. WHERE'S THE FREAKING SNOW? D: I did NOT endure this terrible cold weather for nothing. D: Ahh, Georgia let me down immensely this year. Just like it does every year. Until I decide to take a vacation somewhere, then it's all like, "Hey! It hasn't snowed in awhile! Why don't I give them like, 3 inches or something? Wolf isn't here either, so it's the _perfect _time to throw a good storm their way."**

**Blegh. So, yeah, no school today. I am also physically incapable of moving for the next hour (it's a very long story that involves a _Honeywell _heater, water bottles, Tums anticid mint chewables and a _lot _of vitamin E), therefore, I am bored. Hence the addition of another chapter.**

**One more thing before we begin! My favorite song ever is Your Guardian Angel by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, as it has been for the past 3 years. I know you wouldn't care, but I'm saying this because it's a very Dramione-like song. I found an absolutely GORGEOUS cover; I often imagine it as Draco playing the piano and Hermione singing- the girl has a very Hermione-like singing voice, IMO. I love how quiet her voice is compared to piano music...so symbolic for Dramione. She's the quiet calm, he's the thunderstorm. Cheesy analogy, but whatever. The song's a great inspiration to write this FanFic, and I wanted to share it with my lovely readers.**

**Here's the link: www . youtube . c o m (slash) watch?v=3MZhSnnG2qQ&list=FLujwnUucQxppeQY1FWAsqkQ (Remove spaces, replace (slash) with an actual slash, skip to :33 to begin the song)**

**On with Chapter 12! Lots of time skipping. Lots of drama. Longer chapter. I almost separated it into two chapters to add more detail... But I was too lazy. Goes by kinda rushed, sorry about that, just tryna speed things up. Also, if you haven't gone back and read my editing to Chapter 4, I suggest you do so. It explains Draco's change in opinion on Pansy.**

**The song that is sung in Hermione's memory is A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope. It is also a gorgeous Dramione-like song that I suggest you listen to.**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I went back and changed something in the last chapter, but I'm not sure if it's showed up yet on FanFiction. When Blaise mentioned the Hogsmeade trip, I'd meant to write that it was NEXT weekend, not this weekend.**

* * *

><p><em>They hold tight their coin and pray no one has to see the fall<br>I'm there, yeah I serve them, the one with the empty looking eyes  
>Come closer, you'll see me: the face that is used to telling lies<br>Saturday nights in neon lights, Sunday in the cell  
>Pills enough to make me feel ill, cash enough to make me well<br>Take me, take me to the riot  
>~Take Me To The Riot by Stars<em>

The next week passed swiftly for Hermione as she began to fall into her routine. Mornings were always her favorite part of the day: she would awaken early, feeling rejuvenated, take a bath or a shower, and take her time dressing and doing her hair. After checking to be sure Malfoy had returned from his patrol so that she wouldn't have to encounter him and his insults (he was particularly nasty in the mornings), she would make her way to their common room. She'd then look out the window for a good fifteen minutes, absorbing the morning rays, and conjure a cup of refreshing mint tea. Afterwards, she'd meet her friends at breakfast.

Her academic schedule was difficult, but that's just what Hermione felt she needed. She was, of course, in all accelerated or advanced classes. Her first class was Muggle Studies (where she often listened to Luna want about Rabbipuffins, deadly creatures that appeared as harmless bunnies until you tried to scratch their bellies), followed by Astronomy, then Defense Against the Dark Arts, and finally Potions. Her free period was then spent helping Harry and Ron with their homework, or listening to Ginny rant about the latest gossip. She then spent dinner with the three, and finally stole to her room to study alone. Afterwards she took on patrol, and finally, she met Malfoy at the library.

She was surprised to find that she didn't see as much of Malfoy as she had expected to. He was a mercury-eyed ghost to her, found only in the off-guard melody of a bittersweet piano tune that she occasionally caught a whisper of when he was unaware of her presence. Or maybe that was just Hermione's mind forming Malfoy into who she wanted him to be- a more complex mystery than he actually was. It must be, because on the times she did encounter him outside of their library meetings, he certainly made himself loudly known with sneers and insults, with Zabini, Knott, or some girl he was certain to be sleeping with that night by his side.

The girls. That is one thing that reminded Hermione why she hated him so much. More often than not, she would walk in their common rooms to find a new bare-skinned, lipgloss-smeared girl on the couch, often regarding Hermione with cruel superiority and jealousy of the fact that Hermione lived here and she didn't. It was a different girl every day, at any given time, sometimes twice a day, and it never failed to surprise and enrage Hermione. She made a point to share her anger with Malfoy when she encountered him, to which he often replied, "Sod off, Granger. Don't be jealous of the fact that I actually _have _a sex life. I can invite in whoever I please."

That being said, she made a point to avoid the couch.

Their library meetings were the absolute strangest to Hermione. A word was hardly exchanged between them. The silence was almost unbearable for Hermione, so she sang beneath her breath for the 3~4 hours they studied together, and although Malfoy did not take interest in it as he had the first time, he did not seem to have a problem with it, either. It was as if they had settled upon some sort of peace treaty. An occasion snarky comment was traded, but it was more to keep their enemy relationship in check than it was to insult, and rarely was it taken as one. It was almost uncomfortable to be working on nearly _friendly _terms with her best friend's enemy, and someone she fought against in the war, no less! The snarky comments were all that kept her comfortable with the environment, and held her doubts in check.

And doubts, she most certainly had. Was it honestly a good idea to invade the Slytherin's personal life; was it safe? She knew for a fact that he lived a shady lifestyle. Would she find herself involved in something she couldn't get herself out of? Something _illegal_? Harry and Ron certainly wouldn't approve of her curiosity. But she had already gotten herself into it, and after all, she _had_ promised Malfoy she would help him with his mother. No matter how awful of a person he had been to her, or as shady as he may be, she wasn't about to go back on a promise.

"'Hermione?" Ron tapped Hermione's shoulder, dragging her from her thoughts. She jumped.

"Oh, sorry, Ron!" she smiled, then looked around. "Where'd Harry and Ginny go?"

"They left breakfast ten minutes ago," he said. "You zoned out."

"Oh," she said. It grew quiet.

"So, um...," Ron cleared his throat. "Are you going to Hogsmeade today?"

_That's right!_ It was Saturday, and not only was she allowed to go to Hogsmeade, but she was enforced to. "Yes, I have to do rounds," she answered, realizing with a groan that that would mean spending _more _time with Malfoy, as they were obliged to do these rounds together. "But I going to Honeydukes later with Ginny..."

"Oh! But, um...," Ron interrupted her, stuttering. His cheeks turned the shade of his hair. "I was wondering... Uh... Maybe... WecouldgotoMadamPuddifoot's," His words were rushed and Hermione barely caught them all. "You know, for lunch."

"Oh," Hermione said, surprised and slightly giddy. She smiled at him, heart fluttering and thoughts muddling, impairing her speech and momentarily stupefying her. "Um, yeah, Ron, that'd be nice. Really nice."

"Great," Ron said, an adorable, childlike grin stretching across his face. "I'llseeyouthen!"

He hesitated, then gave a quick, awkward hug to which Hermione did not have enough time to respond to. He kissed her on the cheek before scurrying away.

Hermione smiled and gingerly touched her cheek. It still tingled from where he kissed it.

* * *

><p>Draco strode down the hallways, Zabini and Knott at his side, aimlessly taking house points from jumpy first years out of mere boredom, while the two bickered (once again) about who was the hottest girl in the school.<p>

"Lavender. Lavender Brown." Blaise said.

"She's a whiny bitch," Theodore argued.

"Louder in bed," Blaise winked.

"The Patil twins aren't so bad themselves," Theodore decided.

"Move over!" Draco growled at a first year. "You're clogging the hallways. Ten points from Ravenclaw."

"B-but..." The boy squeaked. Draco's glare silenced his beginning of an argument. "I-I'm sorry!"

The three shoved passed him.

"A package deal." Blaise continued. "Nice. But Luna Lovegood-"

"That crazy bitch?" Theodore laughed. "No way. Never."

A new voice entered the conversation. "Dracoooo..."

Speaking of crazy bitches...

"Pansy," Draco sighed, turning to face her.

The girl stood with her hands on her hips, and approached Draco. "I haven't seen you since you got here," she whined louding, pouting her lips. She ran a finger down his shirt, straying dangerously low. She leaned forward, her sticky lips centimeters from his ear. "I miss you, Drakey."

Draco was tired. He was overly stressed. He was too concerned about his mother, too far away from the curse's cure. Drawing too close to her final breath. He was too worried about Granger's purpose behind helping him, he had too much studying to do. He needed a distraction. Pansy was willing to offer one.

"We have plenty of time to... Reconnect," Draco replied huskily. Pansy squealed and they vanished down the hallway, leaving Zabini and Knott to wonder aimlessly by themselves.

"Pansy Parkinson?" Blaise offered.

"Definitely the hottest girl in Hogwarts." Theodore agreed.

* * *

><p>"Malfoy," Hermione said distastefully. "You're late for patrol."<p>

Hermione could already tell exactly what had made him late; his shirt was askew, his hair was messy, his lips were bruised. Her expression seemed to please him, for he smirked slightly. "Sorry, Mudblood. I was... Otherwise occupied."

"I can see that," she muttered. She turned and walked into Hogsmeade, not waiting to see if he was behind her or not. Maybe he would make her do the patrol alone out of his irresponsibility. Hermione wouldn't mind that at all.

To her slight disappointment, he was still there. "Jealous again, Granger? I'm so very sorry that your sex life isn't as entertaining as mine. How is the weasel, anyway?"

"Not in the slightest," she snapped. "And he has a name, you know."

"I could care less," Malfoy replied smoothly.

"You're despicable," Hermione sighed.

"Oh, I know many girls who would disagree," Malfoy smirked. "Why don't you just ask Pansy?"

"Is _that _who you were with?" Hermione shuddered.

Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps if I did to you what I do to her, you'd change your mind," he winked. "Too bad I don't sleep with mudbloods."

"Sod of, Malfoy!" She yelled.

He only chuckled. "I'm sure I'd be far more entertaining than Carrothead. Or are you sleeping with Scarface now?"

"I am _not _sleeping with Harry!" Hermione exploded, her face bright red.

"Ooh, I struck a nerve. Are you sure about that, Mudblood? Cheating on poor Freckle-Face? Maybe the bookworm really is a slut. That'd be an interesting turn of events. Though I could hardly blame you; the weasel kid has just about as much personality as a dead cat. I don't see how Potter would really be much better, but what options do you have?"

"As surprising as it may seem," Hermione glowered, "not _everybody _sleeps around like you do, Ferret. Some people actually have _standards._"

"Oh, I have standards," Malfoy answered conversationally.

"Are you sure about that?" Hermione interjected.

"Quite," he replied. "For instance, I wouldn't sleep with you."

"Good, I wouldn't want to sleep with you, either!"

For awhile, they walked in silence. Hermione was acutely aware of the blonde git beside her, who was obviously amused at her tension. Wherever they went, there always seemed to be a giggling group of first years ready to point and goggle at Malfoy. He returned the favor with a wink, which sent them shrieking away. Often, Hermione received glares from such girls, as if targeting Hermione as a threat. _Please, _she thought, _like I **want **to be around this stuck up prick. _She sighed in frustration.

"Something the matter, mudblood?" Malfoy smirked.

"Yes," Hermione said in exasperation. "For starters, I have to be on patrol, with _you."_

"I don't quite enjoy being on patrol with a buck-toothed freak, either," Malfoy growled. "But I honestly don't see why anyone wouldn't want to be on patrol with _me_."

"Your little fangirls are aggravating me," Hermione continued hotly, "and you're being such a... a... a manwhore!"

That made the Slytherin laugh. "A _manwhore,_ Granger? Is that the best you've got?" he shook his head. "Well. That's fine. I'm just too irresistible _not _to be."

Finally, they rounded a corner and returned to the spot from which their patrol began. Hermione could cry with relief.

"Be on time tonight, Malfoy," she said, scrambling away.

She couldn't wait for her date with Ron. Perhaps he would make her day better.

She had no idea how wrong she was.

* * *

><p>5:00 sharp. That's what time Draco met Blaise and Theodore at the bar.<p>

The two already had their first drinks by the time Draco had arrived. He sat down wordlessly, ordering his first firewhiskey.

"Hey, mate," Theodore said. "How was Pansy?"

Draco muttered something inaudible, but seemed to resemble an insult.

"Hey, loosen up, _Drakeyyy_," Blaise sang, laughing. He patted Draco on the back. "We're here to have a good time."

Draco's first firewhiskey arrived and he chugged it. His throat burned deliciously and he ordered a second, along with a shot. The last time he drank was at the Slytherin party a week ago. He desperately needed to get drunk, patrol or not. Ganger would simply have to deal with doing the patrol herself.

Ganger. The stupid Golden Trio Girl was the main reason why he was so eager to get drunk. That damned mudblood, what _right _did she have to make him stress so much? He didn't ask for her help, he didn't certainly didn't want it. Yet she forced her way into his most important secret. Wether or not he wanted to admit it (and he definitely did _not_), she may his only choice to keep his mother alive. It was scary, how they almost got _along _while they worked together during their secret nighttime meetings in the libraries.

Down goes the shot.

"Whoa, slow down, mate," Theodore said, obviously alarmed. Draco ignored him, or at least, didn't seem to hear him.

_He remembered the first time he drank, the Christmas break of his second year._

_It was meant to be a great Christmas for him; his father was at the Ministry attending to some sort of "business", leaving him to celebrate alone with his mother for the first time in ages. And at first, it went very well. He had spent the two days at the Malfoy mansion, eating heartily, spending every second with his mother, and trying hard to forget his father and the memories associated. His favorite memory of those times was playing his piano loudly and openly and without fear of being discovered while his mother sang along, filling him with an un-Malfoy amount of happiness that his father would certainly not approve of. His mother always had the most beautiful voice._

_His Christmas break was wonderful. That is, of course, until his father came home early._

_Lucius was not happy to see his son happy. He was furious to see the instrument he had banned, back in his home._

_"Dad?" Draco said, startled. All piano-playing was ceased. His smiled immediately disappeared._

_"Get up, Draco," Lucius said. His voice was eerily calm._

_"Lucius..." Narcissa said, moving forward unsurely._

_"I'll deal with you later," Lucius said quietly, eyes glinting. "Leave. I must teach my son a lesson."_

_"Come now, Lucius..." She began._

_"NOW!" he snarled. She looked at Draco once more, fearfully, before shuffling out of the room._

_Lucius strode to the piano, running a finger along the fine, glossy curve of its rim, running a judgmental gaze over it. His mouth with lifted in some sort of disgust. "Do you not remember what I have taught you in all these years, Draco?"_

_Draco knew better than to reply._

_"I see. Allow me to review?" Lucius walked around to the back of the piano slowly, plucking at the delicate strings inside. "Any passion that does not reward one with wealth or power, is not a passion fit for a Malfoy." He continued around the piano, running his hand down the bridge. He grabbed ahold and shook it roughly. It held strong. "And any worthless pleasure is a waste of time: it hinders you from fulfilling your true duties and responsibilities. Therefore, it is a weakness." Having finished his inspection, he reached the other side of the piano and met Draco once more. "Surely you must remember this, Draco. What does a Malfoy do to his weaknesses?"_

_"Father, no," Draco whispered, aware of the Malfoy sire's intentions._

_Lucius smiled cruelly, withdrawing his wand from his robe's pocket, answering what Draco did not: "We destroy them."_

_Draco only barely managed to roll from the piano bench when Lucius demolished his piano, his only piano, the only pleasure he got at home. The wood split with a crack that sounded worse to Draco than the cracking of bones, sending the pedals, keys, and strings in every direction. Draco was barely aware of the tears that rolled down his face because his piano, oh Merlin, his piano, and his father, who was sure to watch Draco's every move and assure that he never saw such a sweet instrument again..._

_"What is this, boy?" Lucius was suddenly in front of him, roaring. He grabbed his shirt and shook him roughly. "Tears? A Malfoy does have emotion! Did you forget all I have taught you?!"_

_Draco sobbed harder, and Lucius slapped him, again and again, until Draco was too numb to let another tear fall. He crumbled to the ground._

_"Stand up, fool!" Lucius yelled. "You were raised to hold yourself high, not to fall to the dirt like a mudblood. Stand up!"_

_Somehow, Draco found the strength do to as his father asked. His shoulders slumped, his head hung low._

_"Stand up straight! Look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you!" his father screamed, losing his patience. His wand shot out of his pocket and aimed at Draco. "You are **such **a failure!" A curse shot forth from his wand, forcing Draco to the ground again. "Stand **up**, boy!" Another curse was thrown his way and Draco was momentarily blinded with pain. "Weak, pathetic boy!" Another curse. "Disgustingly pitiful!" And another. Finally, Lucius's voice grew level and shot a final curse a Draco. "Not fit to be a Malfoy." Draco met his father's eyes then. Lucius regarded his son coldly, lowly, unsympathetically. As if he was staring down at a stranger. Not his son._

_Some father._

_He left Draco. It was some time later before Narcissa could steal enough time to visit her boy, whispering reassurance to him. "I'm taking you back to Hogwarts ," she said. "Your father went to ...release his anger. We have just enough time. You'll be safer there."_

_"What about you?" Draco whimpered, reaching out to grab his mother's arms protectively._

_"I have lived with your father for years, my child," she said, stroking his face. "Don't you worry about me."_

_So, return to Hogwarts he did. Broken and bloody, he dragged himself to the Slytherin common rooms while his mother went to talk to Dumbledore. He chose not to go with her, simply because he knew Dumbledore would usher him to the nurse, and Draco did not want anyone else to see him in this condition. The common rooms were empty, and so he dragged himself to the couch, where he collapsed. He let the tears continue again._

_"Draco Malfoy. You look bloody pathetic."_

_Draco hadn't expected anyone else in the Slytherin house to stay over winter break, and so he jumped with surprise. Looking up, he found himself facing a tall, muscular boy he vaguely recognized. Ah, yes, Draco remembered now: this boy's father was business parters with Lucius and visited often to discuss whatever business they dealt with. Occasionally, he liked to bring his son._

_"Blaise Zabini," Draco replied, his voice waving slightly. He cleared his throat and straightened up. "I'd expect you to be with your family over the break."_

_"I returned this morning." As he came closer, Draco could see the bruises blooming from his neck and understood immediately. He knelt beside Draco, regarding him emotionlessly. "You look like hell, you know."_

_Was he trying to be superior to Draco? He stood up angrily. "I'm bloody fine, thank you very much."_

_Blaise laughed. "Relax. It's fine. I know just what will help you."_

_Draco eyed the boy suspiciously. This was the son of his father's business partner, and anything that was associated with his father was to be avoided by all costs. But the bruise on the boy's neck once again caught his attention. This kid knew what he was going through, so...Why not?_

_"What do you have in mind?" Draco asked._

_"Well, Hogsmeade is off-limits for most second years, but I know how to get us in. There's this bar, The Hog's Head..."_

_"You're proposing that we drink?"_

_"Well, why not? You look like you need to forget a few things."_

"Draco?" Blaise elbowed him, bringing him out of the past. Draco looked up. "Your drink's here, mate."

Draco realized Zabini was right. How did he not notice that? Shaking his head, he accepted his third firewhiskey from the bartender. "Go ahead and send out another one," Draco told the man. "I'll need it soon, anyway."

He downed the firewhiskey. He desperately needed to forget tonight.

* * *

><p>It had certainly been a wonderful day for Hermione. Lunch at Madam Paddifoot was absolutely splendid. Afterwards, they walked through Zonko's Joke Shop, which didn't really interest Hermione. But she knew this had been Fred and George's favorite place in all of Hogsmeade, and she couldn't bare not to come. The happy, nostalgic, bittersweet smile which alighted her boyfriend's face was far worth it, anyhow. Once they had browsed every isle, commenting on which would entertain the twins the most and how they would have improved which prank toy, they walked to Honeyduke's. Ron bought more candy than he could possibly afford and then shyly offered her a chocolate frog, which she accepted with a blush. Hermione dragged him to the quill shop after, and carefully chose a new set of quills. Finally, they walked to The Three Broomsticks. Ron insisted on treating her to a butterbeer, and although Hermione protested, he did anyway. She and Ron walked out with interlaced fingers as the sky began to darken, their stomachs warm and content.<p>

"Hogsmeade is about to close. It's time for my patrol," Hermione said wistfully, checking her watch. She didn't want this day to end. "And I'm afraid Malfoy will be late again." She sighed.

"Well, I'll wait for him with you," Ron said.

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Hermione argued, although she smiled. How considerate of him!

"But I wan't to," Ron looked to his feet, blushing again. "I can't imagine how annoying it must be to have to wait on the little whiny git so much."

"Thank, Ron," Hermione beamed at him which deepened the color on his cheeks. "And believe me, it's unbearable."

They chatted awhile longer. The sky grew darker, the air sharper. Hermione shivered visibly. "It's so cold," she said.

"I know," Ron said, wrapping his coat tighter around his body. Hermione watched him with jealousy, wished she brought a coat.

"He's fifteen minutes late," she said. "If he doesn't show up soon, I'm going to patrol by myself..."

Just then, however, Malfoy happened to stumble in. "I'm he-ere, Granger," he sang.

"You're late again!" Hermione shot at him. Ron glared, puffing up his chest.

"My _deepest apologies, _MudblooDAH," Malfoy slurred as he drew closer, emphasizing the '_d'_ in 'mudblood'. Hermione could smell the bitter stench of firewhiskey even from this distance. "Are you _drunk?_" her voice rose an octave. How _dare _he drink, _again_, and in public, no less! Before patrol, too! He was throwing his Head Boy duties out the window completely carelessly!

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Ron protested, interlacing his fingers with Hermione's again. "This is too dangerous." The foggy-headed Slytherin seemed to notice Ron for the first time, and his eyes glinted. He smirked and drew closer to Hermione. The stench was unbearable. Ron stepped forward protectively. "Not to worry, Weasel-head," Malfoy laughed at the accidental combination of his two nicknames. "Granger and I spend all sorts of time together already." He stroked the line of her jaw with a finger teasingly, and she yanked her head back.

"Get away from me, you disgusting prick!" Hermione cried.

Ron let go of her hand and looked at her uncertainly. "What does he mean, Hermione?"

"He's just trying to get to you, Ron," Hermione replied, glaring at Malfoy. "Don't listen to him."

"Whatever you say, Granger," Malfoy hiccuped. He stumbled forward and Hermione caught him reflexively, struggling beneath is weight. He put his mouth to her ear and whispered loudly enough for Ron to hear: "By the way, thanks for your...," he paused, breathing out the next word slowly and making Hermione gag, "..._help_." He stood up straight and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. Our little secret." He chucked again.

Hermione looked at Ron, whose face was frozen with horror. She suddenly realized how Ron had interpreted the drunken interaction. "No, no Ron," she stammered, "It's not what you think it is-"

"Oh really, Hermione?" Ron said angrily. "Then please explain what the bastard is talking about!"

Hermione was ready to tell him everything: Narcissa's current state, her studying the woman's curse. She was ready to reassure him with her still-present hatred for the Malfoy heir. But as soon as Ron had said that, completely certain in what the drunken _Malfoy _had said, all means to explain suddenly vanished. "Wait, you're actually _doubting _me? You're buying what this drunken brat is saying? You _know _he's just trying to get to you, right?"

"I don't know what to believe right now, Hermione," Ron said evenly. "You _do_ spend a lot of time with Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing. "It's not exactly like I have a _choice_, Ron!" She argued. "I'm Head Girl, he's Head Boy. I _have _to spend time with him!"

"Prove you don't want to spend time with him, then," Ron replied. "Drop your position of Head Girl."

"Are you listening to yourself? You know I can't do that, Ron."

"Why not?"

"Being Head Girl has been my dream since first year!"

Malfoy interjected. "And I'm Head Boy! All the more reason to be Head Girl..." Hermione groaned internally. _Perfect, Malfoy. _she thought. _Way to help._

"That's all the proof I need, then," Ron said quietly. He turned and walked away. Just like that.

"You're just going to _leave _me here?" Hermione cried. "In the dark, alone, with a drunken Malfoy?"

"Why not?" Ron replied, not bothering to turn around. "You seem to spend a lot of time alone with him anyway."

As Hermione watched him walk away, a few unwilling tears fell down her face. She wiped them away angrily. How dare he have the audacity to leave her here! How inconsiderate!

"Thank Merlin he's gone," Malfoy commented. "I can't stand gingers."

Hermione, despite her anger at the drunken boy, couldn't help but agree with him.

* * *

><p>20 excruciating minutes later, Hermione finally managed to heave a unconscious-looking Malfoy on the couch of the Head common room. Sighing with relief, she crumpled into the chair. She took a moment to catch her breath, eyes closed. But when she looked up again, she was greeted with the mercurial eyes of a not-so-unconscious Malfoy above her. She jumped slightly, caught off guard.<p>

"_Scareeeeeed_ you, did I, Mudblood?" he cooed teasingly, leaning in a little bit more. "You _scareeeeeeeee _me too. So rude of you. Trying to find my mother's cure. So scary. How rude." He rested his weight on his hand, which was on the arm of Hermione's chair. He raised his other hand to play with a lock of her hair. Hermione was petrified with fear of the drunken Slytherin, who was so very close in proximity. "Why does a mudblood want to help me? Why do _I_ want a mudblood to help me? Desperate. I'm oh so very desperate now, GrrrrAAAAnger. But you're not. Why does a mudblood want to help me? Potter wanna get back at me? That's okay. _Daddy dearest_ took care of that." He let out a short, humorless laugh which was followed by a hiccup.

"Get away from me, Malfoy," Hermione whispered.

"Sssshhhhh, shh," he shoved a finger to her lips. "Such a pretty _sing-song_ voice. Save it." He leaned back, stumbling and falling onto him bum. He laughed again and ran a hand through his hair. "My mother used to sing, you know. She was better than you." He regarded Hermione again. "Mudblood... Good enough, though. Good enough. Too bad you're a_mudblood._"

Hermione sat very still at the mention of his mother. Hermione was learning something, here. And the information about his father, what had Malfoy said...? Despite her fear of the drunken Malfoy heir, she grew cautiously excited. Maybe something good could come out of his drunken stupor, after all. "Tell me about your father, Malfoy. How did he... _take __care _of punishing you?"

Malfoy chucked and shook his head. He put a finger to his lips. "Sshhh, sshhh," he repeated, before leaning onto his back. He closed his eyes.

Hermione swore quietly, moving to his side. She shook his shoulders. "Malfoy!" He didn't answer. He was gone.

Hermione sighed. _So much for gathering information._

She dragged herself to her room, leaving a pathetic-looking Malfoy passed out on the floor.

* * *

><p>Draco spent most of Sunday in a half-drunken phase, drifting in and out of consciousness, dragging himself into his bed, and through the common room at random. Mostly, he slept. He didn't remember much of that day, mostly just a very angry Granger girl glaring down at him.<p>

Monday was a different story.

He woke with a ponding headache. _Oh Merlin, _he thought, _when was the last time I drank that much?_ Groaning, he sat up, and checked his clock. He had slept through all of classes; Advanced Potions was just ending. He could really use a shower right now. Maybe then, he would see how Zabini and Knott were doing and if they remembered anything of their Saturday night. He hoisted himself out of bed, his head screaming in response. He reached out, stumbling for his wand, and casted a quick hangover spell.

Much better.

A sudden pecking at his door caught his attention. Confused, Draco opened it. A large, snowy owl suddenly surged forward, screeching and flapping.

"What in Merlin...?" He stumbled backwards. The owl dropped a letter on the ground. Draco picked it up.

_Draco,_

_Unless you are sick or dying, we expect you to attend your mandatory bonding exercises. Refuse to show up in the next ten minutes, or have a reasonable excuse delivered with a professor or nurse signature, and your Head Duties will be dropped._

_Looking forward to seeing you!_

_Professor Saravia_

Bonding exercises. Granger...

_Granger._

Suddenly, bits and pieces of his drunken conversation with the ginger boy and the mudblood resurfaced. Draco wore silently. What if Granger told the annoying carrot-head about his mother? Surely he would tell Potter! He _needed _to see Granger. The owl circled him again, screeching a final warning before flying out through the common room. Draco took a two minute shower, dressed swiftly, and proceeded to walk to the professor's classroom, shoving aside students as he went.

When he arrived, Hermione was already seated, her arms crossed and glaring at the table. She was very obviously angry at the Slytherin, and Draco suspected that extracting Saturday night's details from her would be more difficult with her in this sort of mood. Either way, he expected this, and had already decided that threatening her enough would do the trick. He only had to wait until Saravia left them alone in the second part of the bonding exercises...

The professor smiled as he entered. "How _nice _of you to join us, Mister Malfoy. Please, have a seat."

Draco did so, and extracted his memory calmly. They traded pensives. Draco almost hoped that the memory he would receive was of Saturday. Or, at least, of why she wanted to help him with his mother. He groaned internally; he'd almost forgotten about _that_.

The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could confront Granger. Without another moment's hesitation, he plunged in.

* * *

><p><em>Just Draco's luck- the memory was neither Saturday night or an explanation of Grangers willingness to help.<em>

_He was in a small, almost cozy-looking place that seemed to be somebody's living room. A fire place was blazing, and snow fell gently out of the maroon-curtaned windows. There was a strange, rectangular object seated on a stand across from the couch with several odd little buttons and a black screen. Another strange object resided on the table beside the couch and beneath the lamp, which was somehow letting forth some sort of muggle-music._

_This must be Ganger's muggle home, he realized suddenly._

_And, yes, there she was._

_This was obviously an old memory, for the girl before him couldn't be more than eight years old. Her bushy hair ran wild and her cheeky grin was stretched wide with childish joy. She danced around the room to the annoyingly loud music, circling a couple who were dancing as well, their fingers interlaced. Probably her parents._

_The man picked up the squealing Hermione and lifted her high into the air, spinning. He sang along with the lyrics in a surprisingly good voice, "A drop in the oceeaaan, a change in the weatheeeerr!" He passed her to his wife, who dunked Hermione, letting the girl's frizzy hair tickle the floor. She belted back in an equally good voice, "a prayer than you and I might end up togetherrrr!"_

_Hermione's feet found the ground and she spun in circles around her parents, giggling. "It's like wishing for rain as I staand in the deseerrtt, but I'm holding you closer than most, 'cause you are my heaveeen!" Her voice was clear, unsteady, and high-pitched like most children, but could almost compare to her parents._

_As Draco watched her family dance and sing like a group of fools, he couldn't help but wonder if this was how most mortal families acted. He would say he was almost jealous of her, but that would be preposterous because she was a mudblood and had a muggle-raised family. He was perfectly content with being a pureblood. Living in a pureblood home. He wouldn't trade his mother for any 'normal' family, no way._

_He did recognize the song, however. It was the one that Granger liked to sing whilst researching the curse, for whatever odd reason she did._

_He didn't ponder on it for long, because he then sucked from the memory. His last image was of the girl, looking up at her father with pure childish adoration written across her face as he held her in his arms._

_Draco could not deny the pang of jealous he had felt before the image faded._

* * *

><p>The last thing Hermione wanted to do was attend the bonding exercises.<p>

Ron was still avoiding her, and Harry, for some reason or the other, was not allowed to talk to her whilst Ron was angry. Sometimes, Hermione believed that boys were even more dramatic than girls, which was saying something. Besides irresponsibility, the one thing Hermione could not stand were dramatic pricks. And Ron, at the moment, was nothing short of that. _Fine then, _she thought, _I don't need you. And I'm not going to help you with your homework. Let your grades suffer._

If it weren't for Malfoy, she wouldn't be in this position right now. The fact that he was drunk when it had happened was angering in itself, but the fact that he made it look like Hermione cared for him? Why, she completely furious! He had completely upset her relationship with Ron! She shouldn't be helping him. She should expose his secret. She should at least get back at him... But Hermione did nothing of the sort. In fact, she even took over his rounds while he was hungover. The prick._  
><em>

And she couldn't skip out on the bonding exercises, of course. McGonagall had personally assigned her to them.

When Malfoy finally showed up, late as per usual, Hermione made a point to glare at the table. She couldn't wait for this to be over with, so she could spend time with Ginny and try to forget what had happened in the last few days. She shoved her pensive towards him, and took his, muttering angrily before diving into his memory.

* * *

><p><em>Hermione found herself in a dark room that was no doubt in the Malfoy Manor. Though she had spent only a short amount of time in the manor, the horrendous memories that she had acquired of the place made it hard for her not to recognize it. Thinking about it made her shudder. She looked around, trying to figure out the significance of this particular memory, if any. The room was completely empty.<em>

_Suddenly, she heard a crash from somewhere down the narrow hallway to her left. It was followed quickly by a cry, and an angry retort. Some sort of struggle? Forgetting her anger towards Malfoy in her curiosity, Hermione stepped forward gingerly. As she continued down the hall, the noises and flickers continued; the silence of the hallways seemed to make the conflict in the closed room the more eerier. She finally stopped at the end of the hallway, in front of the door from which the two voices were being emitted._

_She hesitated, then opened the door._

_The angry voice of Lucius Malfoy pounded against her eardrums, ten fold louder than it had been in the hallway. His back was to Hermione, and he was apparently talking to someone whom Hermione could not see. "Clumsy boy!" he cried, throwing a curse at the figure that laid at his feet. "That heirloom was precious!" The boy tried to protest, but the Malfoy sire cut him off with another curse. "I won't have it! Your irresponsibility is inexcusable!" Hermione flinched at the barbarity in the man's voice, completely unlike the cold, emotionless Lucius Malfoy she had come to know. Was this **even** Lucius? His hair was sticking up at random, his clothes wrinkled and askew, his voice high pitched and wavering with growing anger._

_He grew quiet, breathing heavily, and looked to the person at his feet. He waited for a reaction of some sort, and upon receiving none, he bent down and grabbed the boy's shirt, pulling him closer. There was a brief moment of silence, followed by a harsh_ crack! _that could be nothing but a disturbingly savage slap to the face. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth and her eyes watered. To think that she was witnessing such animality! Such bestiality! Such ruthlessness! Even the countless murders she had witnessed through the war was nothing compared to this abuse; at least the war was two-sided. This was an attack on the defenseless._

_Lucius stood calmly, then turned and strode through Hermione and out the door. Hermione turned to glare at him as he went, resentment building._

_The figure on the ground moaned quietly. Hermione turned back, eager to find the identity of the abused boy._

Wait, _her mind told her. _This is Draco's memory, is it not?

_That could only mean one thing._

No. No way. Draco was not... He could not... He always seemed to **proud** to be a Malfoy. He seemed so **proud **of his father.

_Hesitating slightly, Hermione walked towards the tiny figure, and gasped._

_Just as she suspected, before her lay a bloodied, broken, black-eyed, 11-year-old Draco Malfoy._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Dun dun duuuuunnnn! Now Hermione knows about Draco's abusive past as well as his mother's curse. How will he react? ;D**

**So, I was browsing images of Draco Malfoy for whatever reason, and I have come up a question for you guys. What do you think is the scene where Draco is the most hottest, out of any movie? I particularly enjoy the scene in Half-Blood Prince, where he's freaking out in the bathroom, splashing water on his face... I don't know why, he just seems so darn sexy there there. Which is a kind of cruel thing to say, since he's emotionally distraught and such...**

**Leave your answer in the review!**


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